The Crimson Badger, Book II: Armies
by Highwing
Summary: The Redwallers strive to uncover Urthblood's true motivations and cope with his army at the Abbey, while elsewhere another mighty force stirs into action ...
1. Chapter 13

THE CRIMSON BADGER - Chapter Thirteen

Winokur and his father Warnokur were already waiting outside the south wallgate when Maura, Arlyn, Alexander, Montybank and Highwing came out to review Urthblood's army. Warnokur had wanted to rejoin his squad as soon as lunch was over, but it was not just a matter of duty; he was also eager to show his son around this new enormous and heavily-armed family which had adopted him. Warnokur seemed to get along extremely well with the Northlands otters, and wanted to introduce Winokur to his newfound friends and comrades-in-arms.

Lady Mina was also waiting outside the gate. She'd left the Abbey after lunch along with Machus and Urthblood. She had no fellow squirrels with which to mingle, and seemed more than just officially pleased to see Alexander once more. She joined the entourage as they wandered over to where Urthblood was meeting with his captains.

As vast as the badger's host had appeared from the walltop, his forces seemed positively unending while walking through them. "How many beasts do you reckon Lord Urthblood has here?" Alexander asked as their small group wended its way through a veritable sea of otters, rats, weasels, hedgehogs, mice, moles, shrews and foxes. While most of the Northlanders tended to stay with others of their kind, a few lounged and conversed with members of other species. It was strange to see shrews and rats sharing a laugh, weasels and otters trading tales.

"Oh, no need fer a reckonin'," Warnokur said in answer to the squirrel's idle speculation. "Exact number's just shy o' six hundreds. 'Bout two-thirds are vermin 'n' foxes, but that still leaves plenny o' room fer decent beasts. 'Tho, some o' these rats 'n' weasels ain't bad sorts, gotten t' know a few o' them meself. Tend to squabble a bit 'mongst theirselves, but no worse'n shrews do. I ne'er seen 'em raise paw nor claw 'gainst decent folk durin' th' season I been with 'em. 'Tween Lord Urthblood an' those swordfoxes of his, keeps th' ranks obedient an' in line. Don't think that badger'd be able t' keep this mess together very long wi'out Machus an' his crew."

"You sound quite impressed by that fox," Maura said to Warnokur. "Is he really so good with his weapon that he deserves the title 'Sword?'"

"Aye, he is. I'd wager Machus could whip most anybeast else at swordplay with one paw tied b'hind 'is back. Fact, only one beast I e'er seen who could best him."

"Lord Urthblood?" Arlyn ventured.

"You guessed it, Abbot. Only seen 'im swing 'is blade once, but t'were like seein' a demon o' war unleashed. Machus may be a very good student, but Urthblood's the master, an' I don't reckon anybeast alive could overcome that badger when he gets to real fightin'."

This gave the Redwallers pause. They'd known all along, of course, that Urthblood was a warrior who must have had long experience on the battlefield. But to be reminded of it by a friend of the Abbey's who'd actually seen the red-armored badger in action was something else. And Warnokur's choice of words didn't help.

Lady Mina, walking alongside Alexander, nodded at the otter's assessment of Urthblood's fighting skills. "No other beast could possibly have tamed the Northlands as Lord Urthblood has. The first time we of the Gawtrybe saw him swinging his sword, shield and axe against the villainous slavers and warlords who plagued us, we knew that here was a creature who could win any battle, and never be defeated by the forces of evil. Even then, we were skeptical about his plans to put vermin under his own command. But once he began to succeed at this unlikely goal, it became clear that he truly was going to change the destiny of our lands. We swore to support him, and have never wavered in all the seasons since."

"Loyalty is good and admirable," Arlyn remarked. "But have you no doubts about his putting so many vermin and foxes under arms?"

"At one time, perhaps. But not now. Lord Urthblood possesses a power of prophecy beyond the understanding of ordinary creatures. Sometimes, it is as if he knows of things before they happen. It is not so much his skills with blade and battle that hold his enemies at bay, but his vision into them. He can anticipate the moves of any foe, and knows when a beast within his own ranks is going to cause trouble before it happens. This is the thing which makes him indomitable."

"Then let's hope his prophetic vision never fails him," said Highwing, "or else we're all in big trouble."

"In case you'd failed to notice, my good bird," Lady Mina motioned to the left and to the right, where beasts of all kinds milled around, "many goodbeasts have joined Lord Urthblood's cause, and they would never let evil prevail. And I'm convinced that many of the rats, weasels and foxes you see before you have started to forget their bad old ways. They still need guidance and a strong paw of discipline, but I would not have marched all the way to Mossflower with them if they were hopelessly evil."

"Noble vermin, eh?" Alexander said, echoing Urthblood's earlier statements.

"I wouldn't go that far," said Mina. "But they've been given a dignity and sense of purpose they never had before. The changes that I've seen in some of them are remarkable. Perhaps they were dishonest, disreputable beasts at the start, but by the time Lord Urthblood finished with them, they are now soldiers I would trust to have at my side in any battle."

"Take a lot fer this otter to serve wi' vermin an' foxes," Montybank said. "Havin' this lot at my back would make me a touch more nervous than facing 'em head-on, where I could see 'em."

"I understand your suspicions," Mina granted. "But most of the Northlands woodlanders were just as dubious. Yet if you look around you now, you'll see that many of them have risen above their first suspicions, just as the Gawtrybe have. I'm confident that you Redwallers will too, in time, if you keep your minds open and make the effort to get to know some of these fighters." She glanced over at Warnokur. "At least one of your family already has. At least, I assume you consider Warnokur to be a Redwaller. He does have a son here."

"That he does," Monty snorted, "an' he spends all of three days each season here with Wink. Rest o' th' time, 'ee's out cavorting whatbeast knows where."

Warnokur was about to challenge Montybank, then thought better of it, remembering the company he was in. His son Winokur looked distinctly uncomfortable.

Arlyn stepped in to change the subject. "Yes, I'm sure Warnokur has some stories to tell us about his past season with Lord Urthblood. But I must agree with Highwing's point: if Urthblood's will and strength and vision are all that's keeping his vermin in line, what's to stop terrible chaos if he should lose his life in battle or otherwise become incapable of commanding this army of his?"

"That is a concern," Mina admitted. "But you must understand what Lord Urthblood is trying to achieve. He knows full well that he cannot live forever, even if badgers do live longer than most other creatures. And he is aware that his life may be cut short by war. He seeks to forge a change among all beasts, a change that will survive long after he leaves this world. This is the legacy he wants to give us: a realm in which all creatures live together in peace. He has already made great strides toward this goal. If he can do in Mossflower what he has done in the north, we may see this vision fulfilled in our own lifetimes." She glanced at Arlyn. "Well, perhaps not all of us, I'm afraid. But our children may well enjoy a peace of a kind these lands have never known."

"Seems to me peace is what we've had here in Mossflower since I was a child," Arlyn told the squirrel Lady. "We've had no enemy of any size outside our walls since before I was born. It's having our peace end that concerns us now."

"Lord Urthblood has told you of his prophecy?" Mina asked.

"He has," replied Arlyn. "About a great crisis soon to come."

"Then you should know that the peace of today cannot last, unless perhaps we take steps to preserve it and avert the crisis. I have been with Lord Urthblood long enough to see that his gift of prophecy is for real. He has made great great sacrifices and fought hard to achieve what he has so far. If he says there is a crisis coming, you must not doubt him. And if he says this is what must be done to meet it, then we must do it."

"You sound very certain that Lord Urthblood is right in this," said Arlyn.

"I have never been more certain about anything in my life."

The eight of them drew up to where Urthblood was taking reports from his captains. The badger held up a paw, silencing a weasel officer in midsentence, and turned to the Redwallers.

"I am glad you could finally join me. I thought the Abbess might come too."

Arlyn glanced back toward the Abbey. By this time they'd walked quite some distance from the high outer wall. "She would not have liked to be taken so far from the Abbey when there is so much to be done. There will be time for her to meet some more of your troops later."

"Of course. Is she perchance making arrangements for my soldiers to be brought into Redwall?"

"We, uh, are still deciding where would be best for them to stay," Arlyn said. "We don't have enough spare rooms or beds for even one tenth this number. No use bringing them all in if they'll only have to sleep out on the grounds anyway."

"Kill off all th' grass," Montybank added.

"Hmm. I suspect it is not trampled lawns which concerns you most. I have just been conferring with my captains about the food situation. I realize Redwall would have difficulty supporting such numbers for very long. Fortunately, my beasts are skilled and experienced foragers, and Mossflower offers a bounteous wealth richer than any land in the north, so that problem should solve itself. In fact, with a little help from your squirrel patrols who know these woods best, we may actually be able to increase your stocks, and leave Redwall better supplied than before we came."

"Um ... yes, that would be good," Alexander agreed. "I'm sure that would have been a concern."

"Now that my captains are all assembled here, I may as well introduce them." Urthblood pointed around the semicircle of creatures before him. "I was just hearing from Mattoon, captain of my weasels. Next to him is Bandon of the stoats, and Perrett of the ferrets."

"Perrett the ferret?" Alexander muttered under his breath in a half-giggle.

"Nice li'l rhyme," Monty whispered back. "Bet it helps him remember his name, eh?"

Urthblood continued, "And there we have Lorsch and Cermak of the rats."

"Why two captains for them?" Maura asked.

"Because I have as many rats in this force as weasels, stoats and ferrets combined. A single captain would have too many troops to manage, so I split my rats into two squads, each with its own captain." Urthblood moved on. "This is my otter captain Saybrook, best sling and javelin fighter in the north."

"Um, wouldn't that be yer otter Skipper?" Monty inquired.

"All of my commanders carry the rank of captain," Urthblood said. "For the sake of conformity. Next to Saybrook is Bremo of the shortsword shrews, and beside him is my Foremole. On Saybrook's other paw is Tillamook, clubmaster of my hedgehog division. Last but by no means least is Abellon, captain of the mice. Many beasts have been fooled by Abellon's small size, and paid the price for underestimating him. This should be no surprise to you Redwallers, since your own Martin the Warrior was a Northlands mouse. Size is no measure of bravery, or fighting skills."

The mouse Abellon gave a half-bow to the Redwallers. "An honor, gentlebeasts. The name of Martin is well know to the mouse fighters of the north. It is a privilege for me to be here, at the place he helped to build so many generations ago after he came south. There's not a mouse in Lord Urthblood's service who wouldn't long to trade places with those of us who were chosen for this march."

"Well, welcome to Redwall then," Arlyn said. "Welcome, all of you." There was no way to extend this welcome to the otter, hedgehog, mole and shrew chiefs without also including the vermin captains who stood with them.

"And of course you have already met Machus, captain of my swordfox brigade and second-in-command among my present forces. These beasts comprise the commanders of the army you see around you."

"Why no squirrels?" Alexander asked the Badger Lord, but it was Lady Mina who answered.

"Just about every squirrel in the Northlands who has a fighting spirit eventually joins up with the Gawtrybe. Lord Urthblood and my brother Marinus decided that the Gawtrybe should keep all its strength up north while we came to Mossflower. They will keep order in our absence."

"Makes sense, I suppose," Alex had to admit.

"I assume," Urthblood asked of Arlyn, "there will be no problem with having at least my captains staying inside Redwall?"

"Um ... " Arlyn felt awkward. There was no way he could refuse with all the captains standing right there, looking at him, unless he had some very good reason. And he was the Abbot, after all, even if he was retired. There was no way he could easily sidestep the issue.

"I will have to consult with Abbess Vanessa, of course, but I don't think it will be a problem, My Lord."

"Very good," the badger nodded in satisfaction. "That way, the Abbess will be able to meet all my captains personally, without having to come all the way out here. Now, I expect you'll want a closer inspection of my troops. Since the captains are all here to answer any questions you may have, it may as well be now. I've cancelled the regular training drills in view of their long march during the night, giving them the rest of the day off. They tend to be more sociable when they're not on active duty." Urthblood started off, beckoning for everybeast to follow.

Maura hung back with the Abbot. "Arlyn, are you sure that was a wise thing to do, inviting this lot into the Abbey? I mean, Machus was bad enough, but now we'll also have two rats, a stoat, a weasel and a ferret."

"And they'll all be in one place, where we can keep an eye on them," Arlyn replied. "What was it Urthblood himself said earlier, about keeping your enemies close? Time to follow some of his counsel. The horde outside won't be able to do very much without its commanders. Perhaps keeping them separated is the precise thing we should be trying to do."

"Ah, very crafty of you," Maura said. "But they'll see everything about the inside of the Abbey ... its layout, its defenses ... "

"Urthblood knows all of that already," Arlyn reminded her. "He's been studying our blueprints, for goodness sake. If he decides to share this knowledge with his captains, we can't keep it a secret."

Urthblood noticed the two of them lagging behind. "Is there a problem?" he casually called back to them.

Thinking quickly, Arlyn yelled, "Not so fast, My Lord, if you please. It's been many a season since these old legs of mine have seen so much walking."

"Forgive me. We'll go more slowly." Urthblood slackened his pace to a leisurely stroll; the others did the same.

Arlyn surpressed a chuckle. "Turns out old age is good for something after all!"

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As it turned out, Arlyn and the others didn't learn very much from the tour of Urthblood's army, except to be impressed anew by the sheer number and variety of creatures the Badger Lord had under arms. The vermin commanders had little to say as they showed the Redwallers through their ranks. It seemed they were as uncomfortable and self-conscious around the Abbeydwellers as the Redwallers were around them. It was hard to tell whether they were being just plain unfriendly, or if they were scared to death of making some diplomatic blunder in the hulking presence of their badger master. Whatever the reason, no rat, weasel, stoat or ferret of this horde proved to be as openly courteous or well-spoken as Machus. His foxes were the only ones who snapped to attention when the touring party came near, standing ramrod straight until Urthblood was well past them. Even though all the troops had been given the afternoon off, the swordfoxes apparently never considered themselves off duty.

Afterwards, the various captains wandered back to rejoin their respective squads. Monty, Winokur and Warnokur went off with Captain Saybrook and the other Northland otters, while the remaining Redwallers decided to stick with Abellon and the mouse division. Mina stayed with them, since there was no squirrel regiment ... and since that was where Alexander was.

Arlyn leaned toward Maura as they trailed behind Abellon and muttered, "Well, we sure didn't learn much from all of that ... except maybe that Urthblood's vermin aren't all that outgoing."

"Not outgoing? Frosty is more like it. I got the impression they're not too happy about being here. They did seem rather orderly and well-behaved from what I could see, at least for vermin. But I'm not ready to count them as friends or allies, not until I've seen a lot more of them."

"We'll probably get that chance soon, for better or worse, since I've all but given leave for their captains to enter the Abbey. Perhaps they'll be more relaxed and forthcoming away from their troops ... especially if we can get one or two of them away from Urthblood. I suspect they're intimidated by him, afraid of doing or saying something improper. Maybe they'll open up more if we can speak with them on their own."

"On the other paw, Arlyn, maybe Urthblood's presence is the only thing stopping them from acting like the vile vermin they are."

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There were nearly threescore mice in Abellon's division, and the captain knew each one of them by name. The Redwallers were mostly unaccustomed to meeting so many new beasts at once, and their heads were swimming before the introductions were halfway over. But every mouse in the squad wanted to personally shake paws with the retired Father Abbot of Redwall, and seemed honored to do so. For the first time that day, the Arlyn found himself enjoying his role as host for the visitors. The attention and respect Abellon's troops gave him was downright flattering.

"Goodness, these are enough new names and faces to keep this old mouse awake for a fortnight, trying to keep them all straight!" Arlyn laughed.

"Yes," said Alexander, who was also popular with the Northlands mice, "when we saw this army approaching from the walltop, we couldn't tell there were so many mice with it."

"Oh, that's an old ploy of Lord Urthblood's," Abellon explained. "Almost a tradition. He always puts us mice about two-thirds of the way back along his marching columns. Looks a lot more intimidating, having the bigger beasts like foxes, weasels and otters heading the march. Not that we can't handle ourselves in a fight, mind you."

"Oh, I've no doubt about that." Arlyn took in all the mouse soldiers around him. "I must say I'm impressed, and not just by the size of your little regiment here. Everymouse among you looks like a fighter who can battle with the best of them."

"Why, thank you," Abellon bowed in gratitude. "You have no idea how much those words mean to us, coming from you."

"It's plain you all have a very high opinion of me," Arlyn said, "but I'm just an old retired Abbot."

"But the Abbot of Redwall," said Abellon. "As I said earlier, this place holds a special significance for us, since it was built by Martin the Warrior, who is almost as great a hero and legend to us Northlands mice as he must be to you folk. To finally be here, to see Redwall with our own eyes, and to shake the paw of an Abbot - retired or not - is truly an honor. The only thing that could have thrilled us more would be to have met one of the actual Abbey champions, bearing the sword of Martin. But, I understand you are currently without a champion mouse."

"A champion mouse, yes," confirmed Alexander, "but the sword of Martin is not without a bearer. Would you like to see it?"

"Oh, yes, please!"

"Then wait here a moment." Alexander dashed off, returning a minute later with Montybank, who still had the legendary sword strapped to his waist. The otter savored being the center of attention as he drew the sword from its scabbard and held it out for the Northland mice to see, all of whom gaped openly. Monty offered it to Abellon, who took it reverently, as if he might be unworthy to handle it.

The mouse captain blew out a deep breath around his whiskers as he hefted the blade. "We heard earlier how similar this was to the blade Lord Urthblood made for Machus, but I would not have believed it without seeing it. Although, I think this weapon is even finer, despite its great age. And this is truly the same sword that Martin the Warrior carried with him in the Northlands?"

"It is the one he used in the Wildcat War here in Mossflower, before Redwall was built," said Arlyn. "According to our histories, the original blade was broken, and recast by a Badger Lord of Salamandastron using the strongest metal known to him. It is that blade you hold now."

"Truly amazing." Abellon stood back and took a few swings at the air, while the other Northlanders looked on enviously. He seemed a little uncomfortable with the strange weapon, but wielded it with obvious skill nevertheless.

"Almost too big for a mouse," he concluded, gracefully returning the sword hilt-first to Montybank. "Although I daresay I could get used to a blade such as that mighty quickly. No mouse of mine carries anything like that. We stick mostly to the short shrew swords, although some of us prefer other weapons. Most of Lord Urthblood's divisions specialize in one type - squirrels are archers, otters are slingers and javelin-throwers, hedgehogs use spiked clubs. We're pretty much allowed the choice of whatever suits us best, since we make up the general infantry along with the rats and weasel-types."

Monty resheathed the sword of Martin. "Guess that means ye work pretty close with Urthblood's vermin?"

"Close as anybeast in this army," Abellon shrugged. "In battle, we mice usually form a second line behind the front, since we're smaller. Lord Urthblood will often send us, the shrews and the 'hogs around on flanking maneuvers while the bigger creatures keep the enemy occupied. We've caught more than one foe by surprise that way, and it helps keep casualties low. An enemy's more likely to flee or surrender when they see themselves getting boxed in."

Alexander commented, "Such tactics require a lot of cooperation, I should imagine. Are the vermin really that dependable?"

"Oh, they do what they're ordered to, or they catch hell an' then some from Lord Urthblood. I take it from your tone you're still not sure you can trust them, eh?"

"Well ... do you?" Alex retorted.

"They're not what you'd expect." Abellon scanned the field around them. "Tell you what - there's still one mouse of mine you haven't met yet, and I think you'll find him most educational. Follow me, and I'll introduce you."


	2. Chapter 14

THE CRIMSON BADGER - Chapter Fourteen

"I don't like the look of this at all," Maura said sternly. "Not one bit."

Abellon had led the Redwallers over to the very foot of the Abbey wall. There, a mouse and a stoat sat with their backs against the red sandstone, basking in the late afternoon sun. The mouse wore a sword at his side, while the stoat had a long quarterstaff-style javelin stuck in the ground within easy reach. Both beasts wore matching berets at jaunty angles, as if the two headpieces were greeting each other.

But it was the chain which commanded Maura's attention. A crude iron manacle encircled the mouse soldier's left wrist, while a similar fixture adorned the stoat's right paw. The two ugly bracelets were linked by a short length of heavy chain, which would keep the pair forever within a pace of each other. Most disconcerting of all, the manacles appeared to have no latch or join at all. They were literally forged onto the two creatures' wrists.

"Why is this mouse chained to this stoat?" Alex demanded of Abellon. The arrangement clearly smacked of slavery, which was one of the things Redwallers abhored most.

The mouse on the ground tipped up his beret at Alex with his free paw. "'Fraid you got it backwards, matey. I'm not chained to this 'ere stoat ... he's chained t' me!"

"Right 'nuff," the stoat agreed jovially.

Abellon grinned in amusement. "Allow me to introduce Jans and Broggen. Jans is the mouse, in case you're wondering. Hey, you two lazybeasts, on yer paws! This here's the Abbot of Redwall, and some of the Abbey leaders!"

The stoat jumped right up, abashed, pulling Jans reluctantly up with him. "Hey, easy there, y'big oaf!" Jans looked to Arlyn and the others. "So, ye're head of this household, an' all its famous fightin' mice. Guess I oughtta be impressed." He smiled impishly, and stuck out his paw. "Pleased t' meetcha!"

Broggen the stoat followed his companion's example. "Likewise, sirs an' ma'am."

Arlyn and Maura shook paws with both creatures, forcing a friendly face for Broggen. They introduced Alexander, who'd followed them over. The squirrel bowed curtly, but kept his paws to himself. Like Arlyn and Maura, he was alarmed by the sight of two beasts manacled together.

"So, what exactly is the story on that chain?" Alex inquied coolly.

"Ah, now that's a tale." Jans glanced aside at Broggen. "You care to tell it, Broggs, or should I?"

Broggen twirled his chained paw at the mouse with a clinking rattle. "Oh, you tell it better'n I can, Jansy."

Abellon bowed out of the small circle. "If you goodbeasts will excuse me, I've heard it many times before, and I should be getting back to the others. I'll leave it to Jans to keep you entertained." The mouse captain withdrew, and the Redwallers gave their attention to the linked mouse-stoat duo.

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"Many season ago," began Jans, "when Lord Urthblood's forces were much smaller than what they are today, I was a new recruit to his army. One o' the first mice, only a few go back with Urthblood further, includin' Cap'n Abellon. Anyways, I was still gettin' my paws wet, figurin' out all the ways an' wherefores o' bein' a real soldier. Wasn't as much regimentation back then, not enuff mice or moles or 'hogs to warrent our own divisions like today, so we all pretty much marched t'gether, all kinds o' creatures mixed. That was when I first met two stoats, Broggs 'ere an' his best pal Brigger. They joined Urthblood right around the same time I did, refugees from some robber band whose leaders were slain by 'is Lordship. Seemed not altogether bad eggs, not evil anyways, an' like most o' the vermin Urthblood took in, they were tryin' real hard to get the hang o' bein' responsible soldiers in a real army. Didn't get to know 'em all that well. Everybeast was still gettin' used to the idea o' vermin 'n' goodbeasts workin' together, an' we woodlanders tended to stick with our own.

"Now, if Brigger 'n' Broggen had one fault worse'n the rest, it was an over-fondness fer spirits. One night, they found a winemaker vole's ageing kegs stashed in the root forks of some big ol' tree, an' got to drinkin' up a storm. Got themselves drunker'n anybeast ever did. Out o' their minds, they stumbled into the dwelling of a fieldmouse family, stompin' about and turnin' things over an' terrifying those poor folk halfway to their deaths. Young 'uns, too, cowering under any piece o' furniture them two stoats didn't kick over. Brigger 'n Broggs didn't really hurt nobeast, but they sure did destroy a lot o' the trust Lord Urthblood was tryin' t' build between goodbeasts an' himself.

"When Urthblood learned what had happened, he was furious. He'd been workin' hard to win the beasts of that region over to his cause, and now he knew a lot of that work had been undone. So, as soon as the two stoats had slept off their binge, he brought them out in front o' alla us for a kinda hearing, jus' to make sure they were aware o' exactly what it was they'd done. Then he passed judement on 'em.

"We were camped near the edge of a bog. Treacherous place - anything heavier than a leaf or twig would be sucked right down into it an' ne'er see light o' day again. Well, Lord Urthblood picks 'em up, first Brigger an' then Broggen, an' tosses them into that terrible bog like they weighed no more'n empty rags. Unfortuately for 'em, they weighed somewhat more'n that, an' the poor wretches begun t'sink right out o' sight."

"How horrible!" Arlyn declared, while the other Redwallers nodded in agreement. "I always thought that must be an especially terrible way to die."

"T'weren't easy, standin' there watching two strugglin', pleadin' creatures goin' under the surface o' that evil place." Jans shrugged. "Fact was, I couldn't. So I grabbed a coil of rope from our supplies that was weighted with a grapple hook at one end, an' tossed it in just as they disappeared into th' muck. I pulled as hard as any mouse could, strivin' to get 'em out. Broggen was able to grab on to the line, but Brigger never did. He lies at the bottom of that bog to this day."

Broggen sniffed, and wiped away a tear with his free paw. The Redwallers looked on in frank amazement; it was the first time any of them had ever seen any vermin shed a tear for a beast other than itself.

"Oh, pardon me, sirs. Marm," the stoat apologized self-consciously. "Ol' Briggsy were me best mate. Can't hear this story wi'out bawling like a baby."

Alexander looked to Jans. "I'm surprised Lord Urthblood let you do that."

"Oh, he weren't too happy," Jans grinned in his irrepressible fashion. "I think he was just so thrown fer a loop that anybeast was goin' 'gainst his decree, he jus' stood an' watched. But after I dragged this poor mucker onto solid ground - an' by the by, now I know where that term comes from, 'cos Broggs were about the muckiest thing you'd ever lay eyes on, all that bog mud 'n' slime all over him - anyways, once it came clear I'd saved his life an' he was gonna make it, well, then 'is Lordship was none too pleased."

"Weren't you afraid for your own life?" asked Arlyn.

"S'pose I was, deep down. But I wasn't thinkin' 'bout it, not with my reason. All I could think was, those two beasts didn't deserve to die like that, not fer gettin' a little drunk an' causin' some mischief. So, I did what I felt I had t' do. Pity was, Brigger went down anyway."

"Poor Brigger," Broggen sniffed anew.

"So, what happened?" Alex asked.

"That badger laid down the law to me, cool as y' please," said Jans. "Since I'd defied his judgement, he told me Broggen would be my responsibility for the rest o' my days. Made me swear to it, or else he woulda chucked this sorry stoat right back in again. If Broggen ever again stepped outta line or disobeyed orders, he would be slain without recourse. An' if anything he did ever caused harm to another beast in Urthblood's service, my own life was to be forfeit as well. In short, I had t' be Broggen's keeper an' reform his wild ways, or else ... " Jans drew his paw across his neck, making a horrible face to go with the gesture.

"So Urthblood made you wear that chain?" Maura surmised.

"No, that were my idea," Jans answered. "Figgered, in fer an acorn, in fer an oak, an' I'd really stepped in it this time. Things get confusing in battle or on long marches, no way I could keep a proper eye on Broggs wi' alla that, so's I rigged up this 'ere double bracelet fer us. We been chained t'gether ever since."

"Isn't that, er, rather inconvenient?" ventured Maura.

"I've honored my word t' Lord Urthblood," said Jans. "Don't think I'd a been able to otherwise. An' Broggs has learned his lesson, I can tell. He's become a proper goodbeast since we got linked up. Won't go troublin' honest creatures ever again, even if'n I cut this chain right here 'n' now."

"It's the land's honest truth," Broggen nodded with such enthusiasm that the Redwallers thought his beret must surely fall off, but it stayed put as if sewn onto the stoat's scalp. "This mouse feller's made a new beast outta me, an' I owe 'im me life. When 'ee hauled me outta that blinkin' bog, I think ol' Urthblood woulda tossed me back in. But Jansy stepped right in between us, paw on his sword hilt, starin' that mighty badger down like it were nothin'. Bravest thing I ever seen anybeast do, standin' 'is ground 'gainst such a mighty warrior. None o' the others ever looked crossways at Jans again after that day, no siree."

"Not the way Lord Urthblood would've chosen for me to prove my courage, I'm sure," Jans chuckled. "Funny the way things turn out sometimes ... "

Arlyn asked, "And what did Lord Urthblood think about the two of you chaining yourselves together like this?"

"Said he was glad to see I was takin' my responsibility seriously," Jans replied, "'tho 'ee did seem t'think I might've taken it a bit too far. But as long as it didn't keep us sidelined when it came time fer battle, 'is Lordship never complained."

Alexander and the others couldn't believe their ears. "You ... went into battle like that?"

"Sure, an' why wouldn't I?" Jans expertly drew his blade and swung it confidently in a standard swordbeast's practice pattern. "Still got me sword paw free, an' I ain't forgotten how to handle a weapon."

"What about Broggen? I take it he's naturally left-pawed?"

"S'matter o' fact, no," said the stoat. "But I hadta learn pretty durn quick. Now, I don't do so bad."

Jans resheathed his sword. "Broggs is bein' modest. He can twirl an' swing a quarterstaff better with his left paw than most fighters can with both. Once he got the hang of it, an' we practiced t'gether awhile, it got to be like second nature. We fight as a team, guarding each other's flank. Most foebeasts see us chained up an' think we're easy pickin's, but soon as they get within range o' Brogg's javelin or my sword, they find out otherwise. We put many a villain under th' ground, me an' Broggs have, in the seasons we been togther, an' nobeast has got th' better o' us yet."

Arlyn looked at the friendly-seeming stoat. "I admit, I am rather surprised that you still serve Lord Urthblood so faithfully, Broggen. After what he did to you, and your friend Brigger, don't you bear him any resentment?"

Broggen was silent and thoughtful for a moment as he considered his reply. "Mayhap Brigsy 'n' I deserved such punishment, an' mayhap we didn't. But it were 'is Lord's decision. As it turned out, I lived an' poor ol' Briggsy didn't, an' that's the way it is. Call it fate, if'n you will."

"A beast kinda becomes a big believer in fate, servin' under Lord Urthblood," Jans added. "That prophecy of his, more to it than jus' words. Besides which, Urthblood ain't a beast who bears bearin' a grudge against, if you catch my meaning."

"But 'ee's done great things, tho'," said Broggen. "In the old days, a beast like me had no choice but t' live like any other vermin. Now, if a mucker can see 'imself clear to followin' a few simple orders an' keepin' 'is nose clean, 'ee can be part of a proper army, get proper weapons 'n' food 'n' clothes, an' no worry about runnin' afoul of suspicious goodbeasts who'd slay you on sight jus' fer bein' a stoat - or a rat, or fox. 'Course, we do hafta fight when Urthblood says fight, an' more'n one o' me mates hasn't seen it through to th' other side o' battle alive. But there's always been fightin' no matter which side ye're on, an' we put a lot more o' our enemies in their graves than they do ours. An' if'n 'is Lord has his way, mayhap I'll live t' see th' day when we fight our last battle, an' then there won't be no more fightin', forevermore."

"You really believe Lord Urthblood might be able to succeed in uniting all creatures in peace?" Arlyn asked the two Northlanders.

"I look at it this way," Jans answered. "Ever since beasts began speakin', we honest creatures have dreamed of lasting peace, no more fighin' an' dyin' an' killin', no more terror for our ladyfolk an' young ones. Well, Lord Urthblood's the first beast who's ever done more'n dream of it. An' from what he's shown us so far, I reckon he's got a better chance o' makin' this happen than any leader beast ever has, or likely ever will. An' even if he comes up short, he's already put enough evil to rest to make the Northlands a much safer place, and I will gladly follow him into any battle he chooses."

Arlyn, Maura and Alexander traded glances. This was much the same as they'd already heard from Lady Mina, and Abellon. It seemed many of Urthblood's troops shared his confidence in what he was trying to do. He certainly had their loyalty.

Jans cocked his head toward the wall towering above them. "So, when do we ruffians get a peek inside the legendary Abbey of Redwall?"

"Uh, we're still working that out," said Arlyn. "There's not enough room for this whole army to stay inside the Abbey."

"Oh? Looks to me like you got a big chunk o' this fair countryside all walled up in there. Plenty o' room fer us, even if it's not all under a roof."

"It's not all just the Abbey," Maura told the Northlands mouse. "Inside this wall we have a pond, an orchard, and gardens ... not just lawns and paths. Even if you stayed out of doors, you'd find it rather crowded."

"Hmm, mebbe so. But that pond sounds nice. Most of us could use a good soak after all that marchin'. Guess you'll hafta let us bathe in shifts."

"Uh ... even the vermin?" Alxander asked, surprised. Vermin weren't exactly renowned for their cleanliness.

"'Specially the vermin. Urthblood's got rules about hygeine. Everybeast's gotta keep itself clean as it can. Makes sense, when you think 'bout it. Can't have our rat and weasel friends goin' about stinkin' up every place they go when 'is Lord's tryin' to make good impressions."

"Too true," Broggen nodded. "Never 'preciated before the upside o' bein' a clean beast, but now I'd never go back to me mucky ol' ways. Me nose 'as been educated better'n that. Oh, an' by the by, gentlebeasts, we prefer not t' be called vermin, if'n you don't mind me sayin'. Kinda negatory. Not in keepin' wi' our new station as respons'ble soldier beasts."

"Then what should we call you?" Maura asked with a hint of sarcasm.

"Why, a rat's a rat, a weasel's a weasel, an' a fox is a fox. Me, I'm a stoat, an' I'm past makin' apologies fer what I was born bein'. You don't lump all yerselves t'gether, mice 'n' moles 'n' squirrels 'n' such, under one name. Why should we?"

"Actually, we do," Aryln said haltingly, not wanting to seem too eager to correct Broggen. "We call ourselves woodlanders when we want to refer to all of us, without referring to individual species."

"Oh. Oh." Broggen scratched his ear as he pondered this. "Well, that's a nice name, woodlanders. Vermin's an ugly word, an' thanks to Lord Urthblood, we're through wi' bein' ugly beasts, leastways on th' insides."

"The outside's another matter," Jans quipped. "Some o' this lot could fright their own mothers. Glad it was a halfway-handsome stoat I ended up chained to. If'n I hadta wake up every morn starin' inta some ugly rat's face, I'd be one miserable mouse."

"Okay," Arlyn smiled, "we'll try to stop using the term 'vermin,' but it won't be easy. Old habits die hard."

Alexander grinned too, in spite of himself. It was hard not to be won over by this duo's disarming manner, even if one of them was a stoat. Maura, however, maintained her stern and appraising demeanor.

"We've invited all the captains into Redwall for dinner this evening," Arlyn continued. "Tomorrow, we'll have a better idea of where things stand, and then we can see about letting some of the other troops into the Abbey, a few at a time."

"Look forward to it." Jans shook paws with the Redwallers once more. "When your gates are open to us grunts, me 'n' Broggs'll be first in line. You know where t' find us."


	3. Chapter 15

THE CRIMSON BADGER - Chapter Fifteen

Abbess Vanessa was watching from the walltop while her fellow Redwallers toured Urthblood's forces. Before Arlyn, Maura, Alexander and Montybank returned through the south wallgate, Highwing flew up to where she stood to give Vanessa his preliminary report.

"How did it go down there?" she anxiously inquired of her old sparrow friend.

"Hard to tell," the Sparra leader replied. "Nobeast threatened us, and there do seem to be a lot of friendly creatures with Urthblood's army, especially among the mice and otters. We heard some interesting tales ... but I'll leave it to the others to tell you all about it. Here they come now."

Highwing flapped down to the lawn inside the gate, while Vanessa pattered down the wallsteps as fast as her footpaws would allow. The others were just making their way through the otter guards as she arrived. "Well, what did we find out?"

"A great deal of nothing," Alexander answered for all of them. He was free to speak, since Lady Mina had remained outside with Urthblood and Machus. "The mice seem okay, and we met a stoat who actually struck me as halfway decent, but none of them had anything to say that Urthblood hasn't told us already. He's tamed the Northlands, and they all seem to agree with what he's doing ... "

"I'd say it goes a bit beyond that," said Arlyn. "Never have I seen more dedicated fighters. The mouse captain Abellon and Lady Mina are every bit as devoted to Urthblood's ideals as we are to Redwall's. They genuinely believe he can accomplish his goal of bringing all creatures together to live in peace."

"Aye," Monty added, "and Cap'n Saybrook of the otters feels th' same too. He's actshully good friends with th' weasel cap'n. Saybrook's a shipshape fella, by me affidavy, an' wouldn't be hoodwinked by any nastybeasts. Thinks Urthblood's th' greatest thing ever t' happen to th' Northlands."

Vanessa looked to Redwall's badger matriarch. "What are your impressions, Maura?"

"I don't know, Vanessa. It was pretty much as I expected - the woodlanders were cordial to us, but the vermin were aloof. They could all be bloodthirsty cutthroats for all the hospitality they showed us."

"Then we'll keep them outside our walls, until we can get a better read on them."

Arlyn cleared his throat and gave the Abbess a chagrined look. "I'm afraid that won't be entirely possible, Vanessa. You see, we're going to be having some guests for dinner tonight."

"And won't Friar Hugh be thrilled," Maura added in a mumble.

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In and around Redwall Abbey, shadows grew long as the afternoon gave way to evening, and this most extraordinary of days drew to a close.

Vanessa was less than overjoyed to learn that Arlyn had given leave for all of Urthblood's captains, including the vermin, to come dine within the Abbey. But such an invitation from Redwall's elderly retired Abbot was not easily revoked, and once the old mouse took her aside and explained his motive to her, Vanessa agreed that it might be a good thing after all.

As before, the Redwallers insisted that the Northlanders surrender their arms before they were allowed through the south wallgate. For the appearance of fairness, all the captains were disarmed: Abellon of the mice, Saybrook of the otters, Bremo of the shrews, and Tillamook of the hedgehogs, along with Machus and the vermin. The two rats, Lorsch and Cermak, griped about yielding their swords, but no less than Bremo the shrew, who if anything was even more argumentative than the rats. But in the end, there was no question of defying Machus and Lord Urthblood, who ordered them to comply. Only the Badger Lord was allowed to keep his weapons, which seemed a permanent part of him.

Monty and his otters took charge of the confiscated arms, which were placed in a well-guarded pile inside the wallgate. They were quite out in the open, so nobeast would be able to remove blade, sling, javelin or club without being seen by the otter and squirrel sentries. That matter settled, the entire group headed into Great Hall, where the evening meal awaited.

Friar Hugh, who earlier had been heard to remark to some of his kitchen staff, "I'm not sure what vermin eat, so I'll give 'em a little bit of everything," prepared a steamed vegetable medley consisting of no fewer than eight different varieties from the Abbey gardens. Along with this was a seemingly bottomless cauldron of potatoes in a tangy cheddar sauce, and a simple lettuce salad which their guests could dress and garnish to their individual tastes. Loaves of nutty wheatbread had also been baked - "coarse bread for coarse beasts," as the Friar put it - and were served warm with a choice of butter or a zesty onion cream spread.

Drinks were limited to fruit cordials. With a weasel, ferret, stoat, fox and two rats at the table, it was deemed wise not to tempt fate by putting out anything stronger than mildly fermented fruit juice.

The Abbey leaders - Alexander and Monty in particular - scrutinized the Northlanders as the food was laid out before them. There were long looks over the fare, looks of studied appraisal. After some pondering, Alex leaned over and whispered in Vanessa's ear. She nodded curtly and addressed the dinner guests.

"My apologies, but you'll find no meat in any of these dishes. I know some of you may be accustomed to it, but it is not our way here at Redwall to eat the flesh of any bird or beast."

Machus sat near the head of the table, along with Urthblood and Lady Mina. The red fox spoke to the Abbess's concern.

"They were all told of this when we began our march to Mossflower. We understand that we are guests here in your Abbey, and will do our best to observe your rules and customs."

Brother Geoff scanned the faces of the visitors sharing the head table with them. "Is it, uh, common for your soldiers to, erm, partake in such a diet? Of flesh?"

"An occasional bird, particularly seagulls when we're campaigning along the coasts," Machus told the historian. "Nasty creatures, gulls. But as far as any furred beast, Lord Urthblood has forbidden it."

"An' well 'ee should," Monty put in from farther down the table. "If ye're really tryin' t' make all beasts friends, t'wouldn't do t' find out you've scoffed yer friend's Mum or Dad, eh?"

Abbess Vanessa allowed a sour expression to linger on her face. "Please, let's have no more talk of eating other creatures. I for one would find even a seagull too close to our Sparra friends to enjoy the taste. There's good food aplenty right here before us, and no birds or beasts were slain to provide this excellent meal."

"Well spoken, Abbess," Urthblood rumbled in agreement. "Perhaps someday, when all the lands have been tamed, everybeast will follow the example of Redwall and eat nothing that requires another animal to give its life. Let this meal be the start of such tradition, and if the fates allow, it will spread to every corner of forest, field, mountain and shore."

With that, the eating commenced.

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The Abbess filled her plate first, in keeping with Redwall tradition. Then, all the other Abbeydwellers and all their guests took their turn. The captains of the vermin - creatures notorious for being greedy and ill-mannered - patiently waited their turn along with everybeast else. And when their time came to serve themselves, they were clearly mindful to take portions that were large without being gluttonous.

It was a novel experience for the Redwallers, to be sharing their dining hall with such beasts. Vanessa had been careful to place the rat, weasel, ferret and stoat captains at the long central table with all the Abbey leaders so that none of the ordinary brothers and sisters or any of the children would have to rub shoulders with former enemy creatures. Machus was seated there too, but he alone among these traditional foebeasts sat near the head of the table with Lord Urthblood and Vanessa. The other vermin (and it was still hard not to think of them as such) were spaced farther down, mixed in with other Abbey leaders and the mouse, hedgehog, otter and shrew captains of Urthblood's army. The two Foremoles sat together, while Lady Mina - at Alexander's insistance - sat next to him, just down from Vanessa and the Badger Lord. Even though the vast majority of the Abbeydwellers were seated at separate tables off to the sides of the main one, there were still enough creatures pulled up to the long center table to fill its places nicely.

Of the regular Abbey leaders, only Maura declined to sit at the central table. Although she was mindful of her assignment from Vanessa to keep a close eye on Machus while the fox was inside Redwall, in this instance she felt it was more important to stay with the Abbey children. The youngsters were her main responsibility, and with such unsavory beasts among them this night, Maura meant to keep her charges on a very short leash. If these rats and weasels proved less honorable than they maintained, her first duty was to protect the future of Redwall. A rat was a rat, as far as she was concerned, and if Urthblood's had the same temperament as the others she'd had the displeasure to know, she didn't want any of the children going near the vermin captains. Vermin had no place in their hearts for children, not even their own, and only bad would come of it if the two were allowed to come together.

Vanessa glanced down at the vermin officers, and the other commanders from Urthblood's army, and she thought about the masses of lower ranking troops outside. Of course Friar Hugh could not be expected to feed them all, but still ...

She turned to the badger warrior. "My Lord, it does grieve me somewhat that we should be in here, enjoying this fine fare, while so many others are excluded from this meal, even though they stand just outside our walls. Are you sure they will be all right for food this evening?"

Urthblood dismissed her concern. "They are seasoned marchers, Abbess, and have had to make do in lands far harsher than this. They know how to forage and keep up their ration supplies. To tell the truth, ever since they entered Mossflower some days ago, both their stomachs and their packs have grown heavier than is probably good for them. Do not worry about them going hungry. In this rich land, there is no danger of that."

Vanessa was relieved by this reassurance. "Good, good. In that case, everybeast here can take as much as they like ... Friar Hugh made plenty. And let us for now put aside all talk of wars and warlike matters. Tonight, My Lord, you and your captains are our guests. Let us dwell on pleasant things, and leave everything else until the morrow."

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And so they did.

Unfortunately, this did nothing to further Arlyn's strategy of hearing about the vermin captains from their own mouths. Mattoon, Bandon and Perrett were quite reticent, if well behaved, and spoke not a word other than asking to have bowls and plates passed to them. The two captains of the rats, Lorsch and Cermak, were only slightly more verbose, but still limited their talk to a few earthy compliments about the food and a few quarrelsome mutters directed at each other. All five seemed reluctant to engage in conversation, and the Abbey leaders felt no obligation to pull them out of their shells. Most would consider this meal a success if it simply ended without bloodshed.

As it turned out, Vanessa and Arlyn were actually relieved that these beasts preferred not to fully enter into the spirit of the evening. Clustered together down at the far end of the table as they were, it was easier to keep an eye on them than if they'd been mixed in with the rest. So much for Urthblood's insistance that all beasts should mingle as friends ...

The twilight dimness through the stained glass windows of Great Hall had dimmed almost completely to the dark of full night, and the friendly flicker of wall torches cast their dancing light over the assembly. Monty, as usual, was still nibbling at his multi-couse dessert, but nearly everybeast else had pushed aside the empty dinner plates, appetites fully satisfied. Even the vermin captains seemed wholly contented.

Abellon, Urthblood's mouse captain, had taken a seat near the head of the table, between Arlyn and Brother Geoff. The seasoned campaigner could not hear enough from the Abbey historian about the battles against Cluny and Ironbeak, Slagar and Malkariss, Ublaze Madeyes and Damug Warfang, and the Marlfoxes. Abellon kept Arlyn and Geoff talking through every course and into dessert. Vanessa, who'd asked for no talk of war during the meal, let their conversation proceed without comment, since it was clear that Abellon held the various warriors of Redwall in near-awe. Besides which, all of these particular wars had turned out well, for the most part, making them suitable for telling around the dinner table.

Abellon sat enraptured by each tale as it unfolded, hanging upon every word. A few times, one or another of the Redwallers would sneak a glance down toward the far end of the table, to see the various other captains, vermin and otherwise, intently straining to hear the sagas for themselves. If any one of them had entered Redwall believing they'd be staying among a lot of simple, defenseless mice and woodlanders, that assessment was shattered by the descriptions of how the Abbeybeasts had fought and won against the forces of evil, time and again.

Which was just fine by Vanessa.

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The good creatures of Redwall could not say how it came to pass, but by dinner's end it had been decided that Urthblood's captains would spend the night in the Abbey. The Abbess found that she couldn't refuse without appearing ungracious, so hasty preparations were made to quarter these not-quite-expected guests.

The bustle of activity gave Vanessa, Arlyn and Geoff an opportunity few a few quick whispered exchanges that Urthblood and the others would be unlikely to overhear.

"Well, Arlyn," the Abbess said, "you wanted us to keep a close eye on the vermin. We'll be keeping them close tonight!"

"Monty and Alex have guards they can spare from the walltop, I'm sure," Arlyn responded. "So long as none of these rats and weasels are armed, they can't do much damage while they're being watched. The question now is, do we post guards on Urthblood's woodland captains as well?"

There was a tap on the old mouse's shoulder. Arlyn turned to see Abellon grinning at them all. "Pardon me," the Northlander said above the background noise, "but the three of you look like you've gone into a council of war. Is anything wrong?"

"Oh, er ... we were just discussing your accommodations," Arlyn said, not realizing they'd been so obvious. Then again, Abellon was a warrior and trained to recognize such things. It would be wise to remember that.

"Yes," Vanessa added casually, "it's not often that we have to put up so many warriors of such high standing. I want to make your stay with us as perfect as possible, even if it's only for one night."

"If your beds are only have as fine as your food, it'll still be the most comfortable night I've spent in seasons," Abellon laughed. "I've a feeling you Redwall folk don't often leave your guests disappointed about much of anything, so if that's what's got your brows furrowed, you can rest easy." He leaned in closer to the three Redwall mice. "Just between us gentlebeasts, I wager some o' Lord Urthblood's vermin have never seen the inside of a clean bed. Don't treat 'em too well, 'cos that'd make it that much harder when they leave this place. Hafta get used to living in the wild all over again. His Lordship doesn't want any of his troops spoiled by high livin', not even his captains."

"Yes, well, that won't stop us from giving our guests the best we can," Vanessa said, wishing at the same time that the vermin captains could have been made to stay outside the wall this night.

"Got that reputation for Redwall hospitality to keep up, eh? Well, don't worry 'bout this lot - nobeast here would dare to make you regret letting them into your home. They know that if they did, Lord Urthblood would give 'em regrets of their own that'd make yours look small."

Abellon turned to join his fellow Northland captains. "Looks like your bed maids have got everything ready for us ruffians, an' they're here to show us to our rooms. Well," he bowed toward the three Redwallers, "it's been a day I won't soon forget. Guess I'll see you in the morning - Lord Urthblood sees to it we're all early risers. Good night, friends!"

In the warm flickering torchlight, the various captains excused themselves from their table places and filed toward the stairs up to the dorm levels. Every one gave Urthblood a quick salute as they passed the head of the table, and most - even the vermin - nodded to Vanessa, thanking her for the dinner. The Redwallers had to admit that the weasel and rat captains did indeed carry themselves with a dignity that matched any of the woodlanders in Urthblood's service.

A number of the brothers and sisters who'd made ready the rooms now escorted the Northland captains up to their waiting dorms. More than one showed nervousness at having to conduct vermin through these hallowed halls, so Monty jumped up to lend a paw. On the face of it he said he wanted only to see the otter commander Saybrook to bed, but Saybrook was placed near the vermin quarters, and the mice were relieved that their burly otter Skipper was coming along with them.

Machus and Lady Mina were the last to leave. The swordfox had lingered to make sure his fellow officers made an orderly exit from the hall, while the squirrel seemed to tarry only for Alexander's benefit, and perhaps her own. When at last they rose to leave too, Alex accompanied the Gawtrybe Lady upstairs. Maura left the mostly-drowsy children in the care of Sister Aurelia so that she could personally escort Machus to his chamber, in keeping with the charge the Abbess had laid upon her. Lord Urthblood also bade goodnight, following close behind the others.

"Well, that seems to have gone much better than it might have," Vanessa opined when the remaining Abbey leaders were alone. "I never thought I'd be sharing a pleasant meal with foxes, rats and weasels, but that dinner was very nearly enjoyable, if a bit awkward."

"Yes," Arlyn nodded, "those vermin seemed almost ... decent. Not very talkative, though."

Brother Geoff was less enthusiastic. "All tonight proves is that those vermin can behave themselves when it suits their purpose. It certainly doesn't make them noble ... or trustworthy."

Arlyn settled back into his chair and sighed. "I'm afraid that with Lord Urthblood around, it would have been impossible to take the true measure of those captains. As it was, I think they got to learn a lot more about us than we did about them."

"Well, somebeast had to keep up the conversation," said Geoff. "And that fellow Abellon seems a friendly and straightforward sort. Quite likable, really. I don't know if we can trust all of Urthblood's troops, but him I do trust."

"Yes, I think you're right, Geoff," Vanessa agreed. "And I noticed during the meal that Monty seems to be getting along very well with Captain Saybrook."

"And how about those two Foremoles!" Arlyn put in. "They got so intent on talking their moletalk together, I don't think anybeast else could understand a word they were saying! I tried to listen in once or twice myself, and I couldn't make heads or tails of any of it!"

Vanessa rested her chin on her paws. "And then there's Alex and Mina. I'm beginning to think that instead of preparing for war, we should start making plans for a wedding here at Redwall."

"Oh, do you really think so?" Geoff asked, surprised. "Seriously?"

"Geoff! Were you so busy telling your tales to Abellon that you missed what was going on with our squirrel friend?"

"Then again, Vanessa," Arlyn reminded her, "every male squirrel at Redwall has been mooning over Lady Mina since she arrived this morning. Alex is just lucky enough to be ranking squirrel and getting to dine with her. Any other member of the Mossflower Patrol would act the same as Alexander."

"Maybe so," said Vanessa. "But I suspect few of them would get the looks back from her that Mina was giving Alex. I think she's as smitten as he is. And that's how marriages come about."

"Only time will tell." Arlyn rose to retire to his gatehouse cottage. "We may have intended to gauge our potential enemies tonight, but between Abellon, Saybrook, and Lady Mina, we may have ended up making new friends instead." The old mouse glanced knowingly at the two empty places where Alexander and Mina had sat. "And perhaps more than friends."


	4. Chapter 16

THE CRIMSON BADGER - Chapter Sixteen

The first night passed without incident, and the morning after the army's arrival found its captains once more breaking bread with their Abbey hosts.

And what bread it was! Friar Hugh, finally coming around to the view that all of Urthblood's captains were his guests, decided that they deserved the best his kitchens could produce. Pulling out all the stops (and firing up all the ovens), Hugh unleashed a breakfast onslaught of white bread specked through with cheddar nuggets, honey-sweetened wheat loaf, oat farls livened with onion and garlic, moist dark raisin loaf, and ginger-spiced breadcakes of apple, plum and raspberry. Balla got into the act too, uncorking more casks of cherry and strawberry cordial. She even unbunged a barrel of weaker October ale, which would display most of the flavor of Redwall's most renowned beverage without putting anything too potent into the claws of rats and weasels.

It was another glorious morning, the blue dome of sky over Mossflower ribboned with just the faintest wisps of white clouds. Dawn's cool kiss had left the Abbey grounds lush with summer dew; the lawns sparkled with a multitude of pinpoint drops that glittered white like the whitest diamonds, or multihued like a thousand tiny prisms. It was a morning to make the heart ache with gladness. Between the perfect weather and Hugh's equally perfect breakfast breads, it was a morning that the good folk of Redwall would normally have long remembered with great fondness. But their Northlands guests rendered the occasion anything but normal.

The overnight sentries joined their fellow Abbeydwellers for a few quick bites before heading indoors to catch up on their sleep. A new rotation replaced them, taking their breakfast on the ramparts so that the vigil on Urthblood's army could continue uninterrupted. The captains had kept to their rooms until sunrise, which had given both the indoor and outdoor sentries little to do during the night.

A few of the breakfasting beasts headed for the shelter of the orchard, but most spread themselves out on the open sunlit lawns, basking in the golden morning rays. Some tables and benches had been set out, but a great many Redwallers - especially the young ones - preferred to sit right on the grass, on blankets or directly on the damp greensward, gleefully unmindful of wet paws and tails.

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Halfway between the pond and the orchard, Urthblood's vermin captains had taken a table for themselves. Lorsch, one of the rats, glanced about as he reached for his third slice of raisin loaf.

"Huh ... can't figure out why alla these mousefolk would wanna eat outta doors, when they got such a nice dinin' hall inside. My footpaws're soaked! If I lived 'ere, I'd stay inside every chance I could!"

"But you don't live here," Bandon the stoat captain said. "These Abbeybeasts're used to it, so o' course they'd wanna get out once inna while. Us, we're used t' spendin' our nights outta doors, no roof over our heads. If we had that every night, mebbe we'd start t'take it fer granted too. That, an' those nice cozy beds."

"Ooo, they were th' best, wasn't they?" said the other rat, Cermak.

"Naw ... this is th' best!" Perrett hoisted his mug of strawberry cordial. "Might not be spirits in it, but no sweeter stuff's ever passed this ferret's lips. I could get fat, drinkin' this all day, an' be happy 'bout it!"

"Food's purty good, too," Lorsch added around a mouthful of sweetbread.

Cermak nodded. "These woodlanders got th' best food, th' best drink, th' best beds ... why, I've a mind t' quit Urthblood's army an' settle down here fer th' rest o' me days."

The others stared at him in dangerous silence.

Cermak fidgeted under their glares. "Just kiddin', mates," he said with a weak smile.

"Ain't no quittin' Urthblood's service," Bandon muttered. "Not fer th' likes o' us, anyways. Different if ye're a woodlander. But this's about as good as it gets fer us vermin these days."

"Which is better'n we had it in the old days," Mattoon the weasel spoke up. "Or would any o' you rather have things back th' way they were before? Not knowin' where yer next meal was comin' from, dressin' in the rags that other creatures had cast off or died in, runnin' with beasts who'd just as soon slit yer own throat as an enemy's ... why, if the weasel I am today were t' meet the one I used t' be, I'd probably hold my nose an' get away from m'self fast as I could. An' I know that goes th' same fer every one o' you, too."

"Yeah," Perrett conceded, "Lord Urthblood does make sure we 'ave decent clothes 'n' weapons ... even afore we were cap'ns, he saw t' that. An' fer meself, never thought I'd take t' gettin' washed regular, but baths ain't done me no harm so far. Almost think I'd miss it, if I had t' go fer too long without a scrub an' a soak."

Mattoon nodded. "Yup, he's just about made goodbeasts outta us, jus' like he promised he would." The weasel cocked his head toward the distant Redwallers. "These folk never woulda let us anywhere near their home if we was like we was. Now, goodbeasts everywhere open up their homes to us, thanks to Lord Urthblood."

"Yah," Lorsch sneered, "but I get the feelin' these Abbeyfolk ain't too happy 'bout havin' us here. If they had their way, you can bet we'd all still be outside their walls with all the lower ranks. Only reason they let us in was 'cos Urthblood told 'em to."

"Yeah," Cermak agreed with his fellow rat, "they sure ain't very friendly, toward us leastways. Takin' our weapons, watchin' us like they don't trust us ... "

"Quite clear they don't," said Bandon.

"Would you trust the like of us, if you were woodlanders?" Mattoon demanded of his fellow vermin. "No, these Redwallers are treatin' us th' best they can, considerin' what our kin's done to 'em in the past. We just gotta mind our manners like Urthblood told us, an' never mind whether these goodbeasts like us or trust us. We ain't gonna win 'em over by playin' false - we just gotta act the way captains are supposed to act, an' show 'em they got nothing to fear from us. If they don't invite us into their young ones' rooms, well, that's not why we're here. Just gotta show 'em we can be every bit as decent an' honorable as they are, even if we don't got as fine a bringin'-up as they do."

"Hear, hear!" Lorsch and Cermak raised their mugs. "Here's to the cap'ns of the rats!"

"An' the ferrets!"

"An' th' stoats, too!"

"Let's not forget weasels, mates!" Mattoon added his own cup to the toast, and the five vessels clanged noisily over the center of the table, sloshing their ale and cordial over their rims to moisten paws and tablecloth.

Without warning, a sixth goblet was added to the circle with a loud and forceful clang of its own. "Ahoy, mateys! Don't know wot ye're toastin', but count me in!"

The five vermin glared at the intruder. The otter captain Saybrook had been sauntering by, taking in the Abbey grounds along with Monty, Winokur and Warnokur, when their salute had caught his attention. Not being the least bit shy, even by otter standards, he hadn't hesitated to add his cheer to the occasion.

"Hey, nobeast invited you inta this, fishbreath!" Lorsch scowled.

"That's Captain Fishbreath to you, you ol' skintail," Saybrook laughed. "Or would you begrudge a pinch o' comradeship to a fellow goodbeast?"

"We, uh, sorta have this table fer ourselves," Bandon said, casting an uncertain glance toward the Redwallers a few paces away.

"Oh? Didn't see any names on it." Saybrook swept a paw around the Abbey grounds. "Take a good look 'round, lads. Everything here's share an' share alike. And you may also notice how these friends all sit together however they want, no dividin' themselves up accordin' to what kind o' beasts they happen t' be. Mice 'n' moles 'n' squirrels 'n' hogs, all sittin' mixed up with one another. Take a lesson from 'em, mates, an' don't be so standoffish."

"Well, they ain't exactly invited us over," Perrett groused.

"Don't reckon y'need invitations here. They'll welcome you, long's you don't go actin' outta sorts. Here, I'll show ya." Saybrook waved over the three Redwall otters who were standing back, waiting to see how this would play out. "Ahoy, friends, an' steer yer rudders this way. These good cap'ns need some otterfolk t 'fill their benches 'ere an' liven things up!"

Montybank looked openly distasteful of the idea of sharing a table with the vermin captains. But Warnokur took it in his stride, as if it were nothing unusual. Winokur, quick to follow his father's lead, came on Warnokur's heels. Monty finally shrugged and fell into line. In short order, all three had joined Saybrook at the vermin's table.

"There, now this here's a fine crew fer a fine breakfast on a fine morn!" Saybrook cheerfully boasted. "These rats an' weasel types was lookin' a mite lonely, an' no better cure fer that than us otters, eh?"

The five vermin captains didn't seem any more comfortable with the sudden arrivals than Monty felt about being there. But that didn't stop Saybrook and Warnokur from pounding the two nearest on the back and tucking into the leftover breads at the table's center. Seeing this, young Winokur turned to the ferret sitting next to him and extended a friendly flipper. "How d'you do? My names Winokur, but you can call me Wink, everybeast does. Pleased to meet you."

Perrett took the Redwall otter's paw trepidatiously. "Uh ... yeah. A pleasure."

"See," Saybrook said, "we're makin' friends already. Pass me some o' that sweet stuff, mateys - this riverdog's got an appetite to fill!"

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Across the lawns from the vermin table, most of the other Abbey leaders sat breakfasting with Urthblood, Mina and Machus. The Badger Lord was his usual implacable self, acting as if everything was quite business as usual.

"So, Abbess," he rumbled amicably, "now that you have had a chance to see for yourself that my soldiers mean you no harm and can abide by your rules, when will they be allowed into Redwall?"

Vanessa was somewhat taken off guard. She hadn't expected Urthblood to press the matter so quickly, or ask the question so boldly. "Well, Lord, we have only met your captains, and them for only one night. There is still the issue of where they will all stay."

"I am not talking about lodging them," Urthblood explained. "There are more immediate concerns to consider. An army of this size requires certain basic necessities just to maintain itself. Water, first and foremost."

Vanessa smiled and nodded in understanding. "We will of course be happy to provide all the water they need to satisfy their thirst ... "

"It is not just parched throats and empty canteens which concern me," said Urthblood. "After their long march yesterday, my soldiers are in need of baths." He threw a glance toward the shimmering pool. "And I do not think your pond can be carried out to my troops."

"Ah, yes, well ... " Vanessa fiddled her paws, glancing uncertainly at Arlyn, Geoff and Alexander.

"Surely you would not deny this most basic of amenities to guests of Redwall, Abbess?" Lady Mina inquired. Machus, for his part, chose not to enter this conversation, keeping his mouth full of moist plum bread.

"If you still harbor concerns about the safety of allowing my vermin troops within your walls, I can split them up and send them in to bathe in shifts," Urthblood offered. "I am willing to do this, even though it means dividing the strength of my forces, something that I always try to avoid. But that way you will not be faced with overwhelming numbers all at once."

"Oh, we could never ask you to make such a sacrifice," Arlyn said quickly. "Indeed, in such troubled and uncertain times your army must remain all in one place. But I have an idea on how we might be able to handle this matter. If you goodbeasts will excuse me, I must go make some inquiries about this now." And with that, the retired Abbot fairly leapt up from his seat and made for the Abbey.

"Whatever do you suppose he's got in mind?" Geoff wondered.

"Oh, Arlyn may be old, but he'd still got a good head on his shoulders," Vanessa said, as much for the Northlanders' benefit as for Geoff's. "Whatever it is, we'll be hearing about it soon enough."

00000000000

Cyril and Cyrus, being two of the oldest children at the Abbey, were able to wriggle out from under Maura's mothering paw and join the new shift of Redwallers up on the battlements. The two novice mice could not get enough of the Northlands army massed just beyond the Abbey walls. Cyril in particular remained engrossed by the sight of so many armed warbeasts, and chewed his breakfast bread absently as he stared out over the ramparts.

Brother Joel stood nearby. "By my tail, this is too much!" the gardener mouse declared. "They must've lowered our pond a good inch or two already, and they're not close to finished by the look of it!"

Below them, through the south wallgate, an almost steady procession of Abbeybeasts was rushing out into the meadow with full buckets of water, or back in with empty ones. This was Arlyn's solution to the dilemma of watering Urthblood's troops. In a sense, the pond was indeed being brought out to the army, if only a small bit at a time.

Every bucket and pail that could be found was brought to bear, along with several large vessels from the kitchens volunteered by Friar Hugh, as well as Balla's leaky rainbarrel, now loaded onto a wheelbarrow for easy tranport. Maura had even filled two of their gigantic shrimping casks and hauled them out to the Northlanders on the Abbey cart. Most of the other waterbearers were otters, chosen for their strength and stamina, but creatures of all types pitched in, if only for a run or two.

If anybeast thought this would be the work of only a few minutes, even with nearly the entire Abbey lending a paw, they now saw that this was shaping up to be an all-morning task. Urthblood's troops used the water first to quench their immediate thirst, and then to top off their canteens and pouches. Breakfast was well over by the time any of them actually got around to washing themselves, and by then many of the less stout among the water carriers were exhausted and ready for a bath themselves. This method of watering over half a thousand visiting beasts was clearly unsatisfactory, but there was no question of letting them all into the Abbey, not even in shifts. Vanessa hoped the Badger Lord would not press them for a third option, because she could think of none, short of praying for some more steady rain ... which was the last thing their gardens needed, and would probably elicit new appeals from Urthblood to let his soldiers into Redwall, this time under the guise of sheltering them from the elements.

Brother Joel stood with the two mouse brothers, shaking his head. "Friar Hugh and I were worried about having enough food if we had to feed all these creatures. It never occurred to us to question whether we might run short of water. But a shortage is just what we'll be facing, if these beasts use up this much water every day."

Cyrus gazed back at the pond. "But we got so much rain during that big storm, the pond's still higher than it usually is. Even with what they've taken already."

"Yes, but remember, lad, the level will go down faster there more we take out ... like drinking soup from a bowl that's wider at the top than on the bottom. Also keep in mind we can't let our pond get drained to anywhere near its bottom, because the fish and shrimp that live in it need a certain amount of water to survive." Joel cast a measuring look at the pond. "And it is still summer, always the danger of a dry spell settling in, and we have to make allowances for that possibility as well. Yes, I'd say that just two or three more days of this is all we can safely stand. After that, Lord Urthblood will just have to find someplace else to water his army."

Cyril gazed out at the meadow, where the badger warrior and his captains had gone out to rejoin their forces in the brightening morning sun. "I don't think we have anything to worry about, Mr. Joel, sir."

The gardener mouse raised an eyebrow. "Oh? Why do you say that, Cyril?"

"Because Lord Urthblood thinks of everything when it comes to his army. He's already got this all figured out, you see if he doesn't."

"I hope you're right, my young friend. Otherwise, the remainder of this summer could be long and dry here at Redwall."

00000000000

The sun was well up into the sky before the task of watering the army was finally finished. But at last every troopbeast had drunk its fill, replenished its canteen, and rinsed the grime of the road from its fur. Late morning saw hundreds of creatures of every kind, clothing shed, sunning themselves in the field to dry out their freshly-cleaned pelts.

Cyrus could not stay to watch the full unfolding of these mundane yet unusual events, since Geoff called him down from the wall to resume helping him in the archives. Now that Winokur was spending so much time with his father Warnokur, the historian mouse was left with Cyrus as his only assistant. Cyril, however, had only his brief and intermittent bellringing duties to perform; and as soon as he had, he would return to the walltop to renew his viewing of the scrubbing and drying army.

Since Machus and the other captains were outside with Urthblood, Maura spent her morning with the Abbey children, much to Sister Aurelia's relief. By lunchtime, in fact, most of the Redwallers had settled back into their regular routines, enjoying this brief period of normalcy before the army of Northlanders called attention to itself once again. Only Alexander and Montybank joined the forces beyond the walls, although Highwing's Sparra and the squirrel sentries kept a close eye on them. Monty stuck close to Warnokur, who as a member of Urthblood's army was required to be present at every muster. Alexander and the Lady Mina were proving inseparable; after getting permission from Lord Urthblood, they departed on a half-day circuit of some of the nearer reaches of Mossflower. Alex was eager to show Mina around his stomping grounds, and the Gawtrybe squirrel seemed equally enthusiastic about embarking on such a joint venture. Elmwood and a few of the other male members of the Forest Patrol tagged along, no less eager than Alex to share the company of the aristocratic Lady from the north.

Monty ambled in for lunch while Urthblood and his soldiers remained out in the meadow, taking their meal from ration packs and fresh nuts and herbs foraged from the near fringe of Mossflower. The otter Skipper assured the other Abbey leaders that Urthblood was not in need of food from Redwall's stores, nor should the Abbeydwellers feel duty-bound to provide such. The Badger Lord appreciated the dinner and breakfast they'd shared with his captains, but now he apparently felt it was time to show the Redwallers that his frces could indeed be self-sufficient.

At their table in the orchard, the other Abbey leaders slid down to make room on their seating trestle for Montybank. Slinging his thick tail over the bench with his usual flamboyance as he seated himself, the ever-hungry otter was reaching for a soup bowl even before his backside was firmly planted. Vanessa and Arlyn sat across the table from him. As always, they watched with amusement as Monty's plate quickly vanished beneath a pile of whatever food happened to be within reach.

"So, Monty," the Abbess said, "I saw you sitting with the vermin captains this morning. Anything noteworthy to report from that?"

"Mmph, skrmph," Monty shook his head, jaws working on his preliminary mouthful. Swallowing, he continued, "Naught wot matters, tho' I shore hope you all 'preciate the sacrifices I make fer this Abbey. Breakin' fast with that lot ... almost enuff t' spoil a beast's appetite!"

"I've yet to see the day when anything at all spoils your appetite, Monty," Arlyn grinned. "So, what were your impressions of our less reputable guests?"

"My impressions, y'say? Those stones could use a mite more polish. Not exactly the brightest stars in th' sky, if'n y'know what I mean. M'self, I don't see how they have th' smarts t' be captains, but Cap'n Saybrook gave me his affi-davy that there's more to 'em than meets the eye."

Vanessa nodded. "Yes, Abellon said much the same to us over breakfast. They may seem like typical slow-witted ruffians, but in battle they become commanders to be reckoned with. Abellon seems to trust them, and respect them as fellow warriors."

"Saybrook, too." Monty made a tart disappear. "Don't suppose they could've gotten such goodbeasts t' feel that way 'bout 'em unless they'd earned it somehows, but still ... if first impressions are anything t' go by, I'd say leave them an' their soggy table manners outside with th' rest o' their kind. Trustworthy or no, they'd don't belong at Redwall."

Vanessa paused with her cup halfway to her lips. "It occurs to me that maybe they feel the same way. We'd assumed they were being sullen and unfriendly, but we were judging them by Redwall standards. If they never spent much time in the company of polite creatures, they might be very uncomfortable in a community such as ours."

"Especially if Lord Urthblood gave them strict orders to be on their best behavior ... or else," Arlyn agreed. "Yes, I had the same thought yesterday when I was outside, meeting them for the first time. But Monty's spent more time with those vermin than any of us, and if he says they're unpleasant company ... "

"Well, mebbe 'unpleasant' is a bit strong," Monty admitted. "Just a bit rough around th' edges. But I shore wouldn't wanna hafta trust one of 'em with my life."

"Let's hope it never comes to that, for any of us," said Vanessa.


	5. Chapter 17

THE CRIMSON BADGER - Chapter Seventeen

It was shortly after lunch when the fighting began.

Geoff was among the first to see it. He and Cyrus had carried another batch of Abbey records up to the walltop for study in the calm afternoon sun. The recorder mouse deemed it unthinkable that an army the size of Urthblood's could visit Redwall without having been foreseen and prophecized by one of the Abbey founders. And now that they had a better idea of just what they were looking for, the reference should be easier to find than the vague uncertainties they were chasing five days ago.

Barely had the two of them gotten settled into their sunny spot, journals open upon their laps, than they were distracted by a sudden tumolt from the meadow beyond the wall. For some minutes they'd been hearing the routine noises and voices of an army at rest, but now the background murmur rose to a clashing and crashing that sounded like full battle.

Cyril and a few of the other Abbeydwellers were already staring raptly over the battlements, although none had raised any warning cry, not even the sentries. Sure that the sound he heard was that of an attack upon Urthblood's forces, Geoff hurriedly set aside his journal and lept to his feet. He nearly tripped over his sandals in his haste to gain a clear vantage. Cyrus was at his side within moments.

"Fur and whiskers!" Geoff exclaimed. "They've all turned on each other!"

And so it certainly appeared. All across the meadow, the various beasts of Urthblood's army clashed with drawn swords and brandished staffs, swinging clubs and twirling slings. It was too much for the eye to make sense of, a riot of motion and noise.

It was difficult to tell which creatures were fighting which. The warfare seemed to be taking place in scores of places, clumped all over the field.

Geoff turned to the two young bellringer brothers, who stood spellbound by the display below them. "Cyril, Cyrus, you'd better go toll the war signal. If foebeasts gain the upper paw in that battle, we'd best be ready to meet them."

Cyril looked at the historian, smiling. "They're just drilling, sir."

"What? No, that can't be ... " An expression of confusion played across Geoff's face. "How can you tell?"

Cyril pointed down over the battlement stone. "Look closely, and you'll see that it's mostly the same kind of beasts fighting each other. Rats against rats, otters against otters, shrews against shrews ... they're doing it by squad. The moles and the hedgehogs seem to be sitting it out ... although the 'hogs look like they might be forming for a mock skirmish. And notice that clear paths have been kept open between the various groups, so that Lord Urthblood and his foxes can move freely from one to another, to see how practice is going. There he is now, standing by the stoats."

Geoff strained his eyes to follow Cyril's pointing paw. "Yes, I see him, just standing there watching. I do believe you're right, Cyril. But this is unlike any battle drill I've ever seen. I'd swear those beasts truly are trying to slay each other!"

Cyril remained intent upon his study of the army. "Most of the captains who were in Redwall overnight seem to be standing apart from their own ranks, the same as Lord Urthblood's doing, to oversee their troops. It's all rather orderly, actually, once you see the pattern."

Cyrus turned from his older brother. "Mr. Geoff, sir, do you still want us to sound the war toll?"

Geoff shook his head. "No, I don't see any need for it now. But I am going to fetch the Abbess. I am sure she will want to see this for herself."

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The mock fighting went on until the sun was low in the sky. A summer heathaze to the west made the fiery disk fuzzy as it sank toward the horizon. Nearly every resident of the Abbey, even most of the Sparra, took a turn on the ramparts that day to behold the spectacle, although none dared venture out onto the pretend battlefield; the violence of the military drills was not a thing these peaceful woodlanders wished to observe any more closely than from the high walltop.

The Mossflower Patrol returned in mid-afternoon, while the chaos in the meadow was still in the grip of martial mayhem. At first they assumed the same as Geoff had, that Urthblood's army was under attack from an outside force or that some factions had turned on others. But Lady Mina, observing with them from the forest fringe treetops, assured the Redwall squirrels that this was all par for the course, just routine battle exercises to keep the troops in good fighting shape. It happened all the time and was nothing to be alarmed about. After watching it for a few minutes from the shady canopy, they resumed their course toward Redwall.

Alexander wanted to show Mina how they could gain entry to the Abbey from the nearest trees, to impress upon her how foolhardy it would be to leave none standing, as Urthblood had suggested. It was also a chance for him to impress her with his jumping skills as well, for it was a leap only the most seasoned squirrels would so casually attempt. There was no doubt that Mina could keep up; after spending the day racing through the treetops of Mossflower, she had proven herself the equal of any Redwall squirrel when it came to climbing and springing. Alexander was confident that she could safely make the jump with the rest of them. For her part, Mina would have it no other way.

Alex led the way into Redwall. At the top of a tall elm, he bounded on all fours out onto a branch which nearly overhung the walltop walkway. Nearing the slender end of the limb, he pushed off into free space, using the swinging rhythm of the branch to help whip him toward his target.

His seasons of practice made him perfect. Alexander cleared the battlements by a paw's breadth and landed nimbly upon the walkway beyond. In almost the same motion he grabbed up a coil of rope that lay nearby. It was a tradition that the first squirrel over the wall would stand ready with a safety line in case one of its fellows met with trouble during the leap. So far, no Redwall squirrel had ever needed to use the rope.

Back in the tree, Elmwood bowed and waved Mina before him. "Ladies first, M'Lady," he smiled widely.

"Thank you, Elmwood." Mina bounded to the branch's end and sprang, nearly duplicating Alexander's nimble landing upon the parapet. Quickly she moved aside to make room for the others.

It was well that she did, for Elmwood came hard on her heels. And with Lady Mina watching, he was hardly content to make a routine jump. Timing his leap carefully, Elmwood did a half-somersault as he crossed empty air, landing head-downward on his forepaws ... not on the walltop walkway, as Alex and Mina had done, but up on the battlement wall. He continued his somersault from there, rolling from his momentary headstand back onto his feet on the safety of the ramparts.

If Mina was the slightest bit impressed, she didn't show it. Turning to Alex, she asked drolly, "Does he do that all the time?"

Alexander's mouth was turned downward in disapproval. "No, only when there's royalty about. Elmwood, what if you'd overshot the walk and fallen off the wall?"

Elmwood gazed down onto the Abbey grounds. "From here, sir? Think I would've landed in the orchard ... probably in that cozy-looking pear tree just there. A soft landing spot, with something to eat on the way down ... and I would've beaten all you slow pokes down onto the lawns." Through all this, the roguish grin never left Elmwood's face. Alex could only shake his head and chuckle.

As they stood and watched the rest of the Patrol safely onto the ramparts, Alex commented to Mina, "I think you can see now why we would object to having these trees cut down. We use this way into the Abbey all the time."

"On the contrary," the squirrel Lady replied, "I can understand exactly why Lord Urthblood thinks they should come down. An enemy could use this way into Redwall as well, especially under cover of night. Why, some of those trees are so close, even a non-climbing beats could use them to gain entry."

Tail swishing, Alex clenched his teeth and held his silence.

"Yes," Mina concluded, "if I were a Redwaller, I'd sleep better at night if these trees were cut down. It's a simple question of security."

"Well, we can talk about this more later." Alexander and some of the others went to the outer edge of the walkway, where they resumed watching Urthblood's troops practicing.

"Egads!" remarked Elmwood. "Some of those beasts are really going at each other! Looks to me like some of them are bound to get seriously hurt."

Mina spoke casually. "Lord Urthblood usually stops just short of broken bones and teeth knocked out. Of course, accidents do happen. I suspect your Infirmary will see a few visitors by the time drilling is done today."

Alex looked somberly at Mina. "Are things always so harsh in the Northlands?"

"It is a harsh place, true, but it is also my home. There can be great beauty there, if you know where to look. I would love for you to see the forest of the Gawtrybe someday, especially from the high mountain peaks that overlook it, on a crisp autumn morn when the leaves have become a blaze of yellow and red. That is a sight to lift the heart and make time seem to stand still."

"Yes ... " Alex said, the word picture she'd created vivid in his mind, "yes, I should very much like to see that. Someday."

00000000000

The fierce exercises finally wound down as it was nearing time for the evening meal. Aryln, Monty and Alexander went out the south wallgate to search out the Badger Lord. They found Urthblood standing by the mouse division along with Machus, going over the afternoon's performance.

"Greetings!" Arlyn called out as he approached. "That was, um, some display you put on, My Lord."

Urthblood said, "It was merely a routine course of drilling ... nothing out of the ordinary for those troops."

"Do it all the time," Captain Abellon chipped in. "I'm surprised none of your Abbey defenders came out to see it up close. A fellow warrior's always welcome."

"To be honest," Alex told him, "it didn't look like a scene I wanted to intrude upon. You all looked fit to slash down anybeast who wandered too near."

"Only nastybeasts have anything to fear from us," Abellon said with an enthusiastic grin, testing his sword blade with his paw. "We are professionals, after all."

"Well, maybe next time they can join you," Arlyn said, and went on to explain that he'd ventured forth to extend another invitation for all the captains to once again join the Redwallers for dinner ... but only the captains, if you please.

Urthblood could not miss the point that the majority of his soldiers were still to be excluded from going inside the Abbey. But the big badger was most diplomatic, choosing to ignore the implied mistrust. "My troops have drilled hard this day," he rumbled, "and a rich spread of food would probably only make them ill after such exertion. It is better that they stick to their ration supplies, as last evening. They are still well-provisioned, so it will be no hardship."

The three Redwallers waited while the various captains gave the final orders to get their regiments squared away for the overnight, then mustered around Urthblood to follow him into the Abbey.

Inside the south gate, Maura and the usual guard of squirrels and otters relieved the Northland captains of their weapons. Only Urthblood, as before, was allowed onto the Abbey grounds with his arms. None of the others complained as much as they had previously; having tasted Redwall fare and knowing what they had to look forward to, they no doubt considered it a fair exchange.

00000000000

Dinner was held outside on the Abbey lawns, the same as that morning's breakfast. Several of the smaller tables were pushed together to make a single large one, and there sat all the Abbey leaders and all the Northland captains. It was a gorgeous evening for dining out-of-doors; as the meal commenced, the upper reaches of the Abbey and bell tower were lit to a crimson blaze by the last rays of the lowering sun, and even by the time most of the diners had finished with the main course, the long twilight of summer still hung over Mossflower, a friendly mantle of silver gray. As dessert was being served, Brother Jerome got to his appointed task of lighting enough torches to keep the grounds well lit against the coming nightfall, so that any who wished could linger over their final course in conversation and comraderie.

At a subtle paw signal from Abbess Vanessa, the various Abbey leaders began to excuse themselves. Arlyn stood and ambled off toward his gatehouse cottage. Seeing how the gathering was breaking up, Urthblood's captains also started to wander off.

The five vermin commanders, sticking together, made for an empty table near the orchard. Bellies too full to sleep, they wished to sit up for awhile before heading to their quarters, letting their dinners settle as they enjoyed the pleasant evening air.

"Hello, Captain Mattoon!"

The five halted and turned as one, still some distance from the table. Abbess Vanessa and Captain Abellon had come up behind their group, trailed by Maura. The two sides stood facing each other for a few moments, then the weasel answered the hail.

"Yeah? What do you want?"

"The Abbot and Abbess would like to entertain some of Lord Urthblood's captains in the Abbot's cottage this evening before bed," Abellon told Mattoon. "They'd invite us all, but there's only room for a few. I'll be there, and they'd like to have at least one of you as well."

Mattoon was clearly uncomfortable with the invitation. "Uh, what'd mousefolk like you wanna spend time with a beast like me fer?"

"Are you not one of Lord Urthblood's captains?" Vanessa smiled disarmingly. "It's just a friendly invitation. If you'd rather not ... "

"Although," Maura added from behind her, "it would be exceedingly ungracious to turn down an invitation from the Abbess of Redwall while you are a guest of this Abbey." Then she too smiled, but the badger Mother's fang-filled grin was anything but disarming.

"Hey, uh, I wasn't bein' rude, Ma'am," Mattoon blurted. "I was just surprised, is all. Um, sure, I'll join yer, if y' want my company."

"Splendid, Captain. This way, then." Vanessa turned to Abellon as they all started toward the cottage. "Arlyn has five chairs to fill, and this takes care of four. Who else shall we invite, Abellon? A rat, perhaps, or maybe a stoat, or a shrew?"

"Oh, heavens, not a shrew!" Abellon shook his head. "They argue too much. Give me indigestion for sure, an' spoil that splendid meal I just had!"

00000000000

It was finally decided that Tillamook, Urthblood's hedgehog captain, would round out their fivesome. Minutes later, all were comfortably seated in the sitting room of the gatehouse cottage.

The chairs were arranged in a half-circle before the fireplace, in which a modest and friendly fire crackled. Arlyn and Vanessa held down either end of the cresent, from where each could easily view their three guests. Abellon and Tillamook were shown to the second chairs in, leaving the center seat for the weasel Mattoon. The two Redwall mice felt they would be safe, even without an Abbey defender like Monty or Alex or Maura present. Mattoon would be unlikely to cause any mischief with the mouse and hedgehog captains there.

It was not by accident that Mattoon had been singled out from all the vermin captains for this gathering. During breakfast that morning, when Monty had spent some time at their table, the otter Skipper had been observing them more closely than they realized. Afterwards, Monty had reported to his fellow Redwallers that the weasel seemed to be the unofficial leader of the group. The others appeared to defer to Mattoon and follow his lead. Mattoon was the best-spoken, most soldierly and, Monty assessed, the most thoughtful of the vermin. And that made Mattoon the one Arlyn and Vanessa wanted here this evening.

The idea was to get several of Urthblood's captains - including at least one of the vermin commanders - away from the Badger Lord so that they might speak more freely than they would in his presence. Abellon had become well-liked by the Redwallers, and they trusted him to help Mattoon and Tillamook feel more at ease here. Mice, hedgehogs and weasels were three very different creatures. Hopefully, this Northlands trio would provide the Abbot and Abbess with three very distinct views on what Urthblood was all about.

To further this endeavor, Arlyn uncorked a bottle of blackberry brandy to share with his guests. Although they'd all eaten and drunk their fill during dinner, the weasel, hedgehog and three mice found room for a few sips of these spirits. The bottle stood on a low table before them, within easy reach of any of them who cared to refill their glasses ... which Arlyn encouraged them to do freely.

The ploy was already having its desired effect. Mattoon had just finished telling them of his youth in a slavers' band in the seasons before he'd joined up with Urthblood. No doubt this was a detail of his life that the weasel would have preferred to keep to himself, and probably would have, had not the brandy loosened his tongue.

Mattoon gazed down at the empty glass in his paws. "An' there y' have it. You gennelbeasts must not think much o' me fer what I done in me younger days, but Urthblood, 'ee says allers tell th' truth, an' let goodbeasts make up their own minds."

"An honest creature is something to be valued," Vanessa said. "If your wicked ways are firmly in your past and you have renounced such evil deeds, then we can surely look past them to the creature you are today."

Mattoon glanced up at the Abbess. "Why, you Redwall folk sure are an understandin' lot. Does a beast good bein' 'round such upright mice as yerselves."

"Lord Urthblood would have us all be friends and allies," Arlyn said from the opposite side of the semicircle. "If he trusts you enough to make you a captain, we'll have to give you the benefit of the doubt, until we get to know you well enough ourselves to make our own judgement."

"Well, truth be told, I'm mighty lucky to still be alive fer you t' know me at all," said Mattoon. "'Cos of all th' nastybeasts an' wicked brutes in all th' lands, Lord Urthblood hates slavers more'n anything. What 'ee did to the leaders of our band when 'ee caught us up ... " Mattoon gave a very visible shudder at the memory - and the two Redwall mice had come to the conclusion that captains in Urthblood's army did not shudder easily.

"Yah, that's a true one," said Tillamook. The hedgehog captain did not seem given to speaking freely, so must have thought this a subject worthy of comment. "We woodlanders were purty skeptical 'bout Lord Urthblood, him havin' vermin 'n' foxes under arms, but t'were his campaigns 'gainst the slaver scum won us over. Anybeast who'd perform such a service fer all good creatures, 'ee deserves whatever help we kin give 'im. An' I hopes you Redwall folk keep that in mind, 'cos there's tough times a-comin', if'n that badger's future sight's t' be berlieved, an' alla us decent creatures gotta stick t'gether."

Abellon raised his glass in a toast. "My friend Tillamook speaks good 'hog sense. So here's to the greatest of all alliances: between Redwall Abbey and Lord Urthblood. And long may it endure!"

"An' all us goodbeasts live t'gether in peace," added Tillamook.

"What they said," seconded Mattoon.

Vanessa and Arlyn found themselves joining in the toast with upraised glasses, though they added nothing to it.

Arlyn decided to tackle the subject head-on. "But, do you really think it can be done? Old enemies living in peace with each other? I mean no offense to you, Mattoon, you and your fellow captains seem decent enough. But I must confess I have misgivings about all those other weasels and rats who are outside our walls right now. Perhaps they aren't all as professional and well-behaved as you are. Perhaps it is a mistake even for the vermin captains to be inside, away from their troops, overnight. Isn't there some danger that your lower ranks might revolt, without your authority there to keep them disciplined?"

Before Matton could answer, Tillamook said, "There's nineteen foxes out there, with sharp eyes an' ears an' sharper swords. Anybeast tries t' make trouble, they'll sure 'nuff find a blade through their gizzard, an' they knows it."

"Ah .. but who watches the foxes?" Arlyn wondered aloud.

"They watch themselves, and they do a good job of it too," Abellon answered, clearly not comfortable with the turn of this conversation. "Tillamook is right again: they'd do exactly what he said they would, if that's what was needed to keep discipline and order in the ranks. But it's been many a season since such a thing was necessary. Lord Urthblood long ago eliminated the more unsavory elements from his service. I deem you goodmice may not be giving him or his troops the credit we deserve. Machus and his foxes are feared by some of us, and respected by the rest, for they are soldiers without compare, and utterly loyal to Lord Urthblood. They now enjoy a prestige and responsibilities - yes, and power - that they otherwise would never have known. They owe Lord Urthblood too much to ever turn against him. He trusts them absolutely ... and so do I."

"Then that's good enough for us," Vanessa said in a concilliatory tone. "But will things always remain as they are now? You implied that there have been times in the past when violence was needed to keep some of his troops from turning back to their old ways. What if something happens to Lord Urthblood, and he is no longer there to keep his army disciplined? Don't deny it could happen; few badger warriors die in their beds of old age."

Tillamook snorted and said, almost to himself, "That beast ain't never gon' die." Mattoon nodded silent agreement, and even Abellon, though he said nothing, held a pose that indicated he too agreed with the hedgehog's utterance.

The two Redwall mice looked from one to another of their guests in the dancing firelight, trying to gauge their expressions and mood in the sudden quiet that had fallen over the room.

"What do you mean?" Arlyn said at last. "Nobeast lives forever."

"Mebbe not forever," Tillamook responded, "but close 'nuff to it as any creature's ever gonna get."

"That badger's done things to hisself." Mattoon stared into the fire, voice low, avoiding any gaze. "Unnatural things. Proof 'gainst dyin'. Things that'll kill a normal beast, don't 'fect him at all."

Vanessa turned to the Northlands mouse. "Do you know what they're talking about, Abellon?"

The mouse captain nodded. "Lord Urthblood knows more 'bout healing and medicine than any healer fox, an' more about poisons than most poisoners. I can only tell you what we whisper among ourselves, since Lord Urthblood never speaks of these matters. But it is believed that, many seasons ago, he found an antidote for every one of the most common types of poison, and fed upon those medicines in such a way that to this day he remains immune to all but the strongest doses or most exotic kinds of poison. Doses that would kill any other beast affect him little, or not at all.

"And I'm not just speaking from rumor or innuendo. There was a ferret, name of Kedrin, who once thought to kill Urthblood and take over his troops for himself. This was long ago, before I was made a captain, and before Machus's fox brigade was as well organized as it is today. Anyway, Kedrin rigged up a posioned knife so it would stab Urthblood when he sat on it. Well, Urthblood just stood back up, pulled out the knife, and sniffs at it, easy as you please. He must have known right away what had happened, because a poisoned blade makes a special kind of pain. As if he's got all the time in the world, Urthblood calls a general muster of all his troops, and walks up and down the ranks, looking each and every soldier deep in the eye ... even me. When he's finished, he goes back to five rats and weasels, and slices each one's paw open with that poisoned knife. To this day, there's no doubt in my mind that they were Kedrin's fellow conspirators. All five fell deathly ill, and three of them died from their venomous wounds.

"As for Kedrin, just when that black-hearted ferret might have thought he'd gotten away without being discovered, Urthblood grabs him out of his line and hauls him up front. There was nothing that villain could do against such strength. While the rest of us stood an' watched, Lord Urthblood made Kedrin eat his own knife, hilt and all. Coughin' up blood before it was halfway down ... probably stuck in his throat. The miserable wretch died pretty quickly, thanks to his own poison."

The Redwallers were aghast at this macabre account. "But, what about Urthblood?" Vanessa wanted to know. "The poison ... "

Abellon ran his paw around the rim of his glass. "Lord Urthblood just plain refused to die. And that's all there is to it."

"Immune to posion," Arlyn mused. "That's a trait that would come in quite handy for a warrior."

"An' that ain't the end of it neither," said Tillamook. "'ee's near 'nuff immune to war wounds as well. Seen 'im take blows an' injuries what would put any other creature in its grave. Scarce slows 'im down, much less kills 'im. Agin, it's things 'ee's done to 'imself."

"Treatments," Abellon nodded. "He doesn't bleed like a normal creature. I think he's found some way to make the blood flow more slowly from a wound, even if his heart's pumping hard with battle fever. Some potion to thicken it, or something like that ... I don't know. But Lord Urthblood has shared some of his healing secrets with Machus and the other foxes. I've seen them save wounded troops I was sure were beyond hope. We all have. Urthblood takes good care of his own, make no mistake about that."

"You make him sound almost like some kind of sorcerer," Arlyn said. "Do you ever have any qualms about serving such a master?"

"What other beast could have all but removed the scourge of slavery from the Northlands? Who else could have made old enemies," Abellon patted Mattoon's shoulder, "into comrades and allies? There may be things about Lord Urthblood that we don't understand, but he has proven himself by word and by deed, many times over. There is no other alive whom I would call master, but Urthblood I serve gladly. And I think you of Redwall will come to accept him as a great ally too."

"From what Urthblood has told us of his prophecy, we don't seem to have much choice," said Vanessa.

A momentary silence fell upon their gathering, punctuated only by the gentle crackling of the fire. At length Abellon spoke.

"I know this must all seem strange to you. I've only been with you for a short time, but it's plain to see that you are a peaceful folk. You've never seen an army like this, and you're not sure what to make of it, but that's not surprising. There's never been an army such as this, and you aren't the first goodbeasts to have doubts about it. Indeed, you would be foolish to freely open your gates to a force this size, unless you are absolutely sure it poses no danger ... even if it is headed by a Badger Lord of Salamandastron, and even if there are woodlanders among their ranks who swear you have nothing to fear. You must be certain in your heart of hearts that we are your friends. All of us - every mouse, rat, mole, otter, fox, shrew, weasel, hedgehog, stoat and squirrel. Until such time, you must be cautious. I have been in your place, and I know your concerns all too well. You are doing what you must to guarantee the safety of your home, your friends and families. We don't begrudge you your caution; indeed, you have already extended us greater hospitality than we could have asked. I can only hope that in the days and seasons ahead your reservations will be dispelled, just as mine were when I first met Lord Urthblood. You may never join us in arms as I did, and I pray we are never faced with a time when we must all fight alongside each other for our very survival. But I can hope for the day when any passing column of Urthblood's forces will be hailed from your ramparts as heroic allies, and any soldier under his command will be allowed free entry to Redwall, to enjoy the full extent of your hospitality as a trusted and honored guest. My seasons with Lord Urthblood have made me a believer in destiny, so if such a day is meant to be, it will arrive in its own time. But I am confident that it will."

Abellon had spoken so eloquently and movingly that the other four couldn't help but be affected by his words. Arlyn raised his cup for another toast. "Then let us drink to the speedy arrival of that day, and work to make it happen."

Mattoon and Tillamook followed with toasts of their own, praising their fellow Northlander for so skillfully expressing what was in their own hearts, but which they lacked the poetry to say themselves.

"Since we're all in agreement," Abellon said, smacking his brandy-moist lips, "I'll hope to see your defenders, and maybe even the two of you, out on the field with us when we do our drilling tomorrow. There are still many good fighters you must get to know, friendships to be made. And believe me, as impressive as our drills may look from the walltop, you haven't really seen what we're all about until you've stood down on the practice grounds with us. I suspect even the defenders of Redwall stand to be impressed."


	6. Chapter 18

THE CRIMSON BADGER - Chapter Eighteen

Arlyn was up before dawn the next morning, greeting Friar Hugh down in the Abbey kitchens.

"Friar, we'll need some extra bread for breakfast," he told Hugh cheerily.

"Yes, Abbot? How much?"

"About six hundred extra loaves. Vanessa thinks it's high time we share some of our food with all those soldiers outside our walls, and not just their captains."

Hugh nearly choked. "Six hundred? I haven't got enough pans, or oven space! It would take me until noontime to make that much extra bread!"

Arlyn considered this. "Okay, make it three hundred. I think Lord Urthblood's troops can get by with half a loaf apiece ... but we'll make up for it with plenty of jam and fruit spreads."

"But, Arlyn ... all those soldiers? Can't we feed just the woodlanders among them? That would be less than half of that horde."

"Friar! I'm ashamed of you! How would that look, giving food to some of those hungry beasts and withholding it from the rest? The good name of Redwall would suffer, were we to do such a thing. We have our reputation for hospitality to uphold, after all."

"But ... but ... even the vermin?"

"Yes, Friar. Even them."

Sister Aurelia stood nearby, wiping her flour-whitened paws on her apron. "The Abbess has spoken, Hugh. Guess we have a long and busy morning ahead of us."

Friar Hugh sighed in resignation, then started issuing orders to his staff for more sacks of flour to be brought out and more pans to be oiled.

"The Abbess and I really do appreciate the extra effort," Arlyn told them, mildly abashed that he'd had to invoke his and Vanessa's authority to gain the Friar's reluctant cooperation. "Oh, by the way, Sister Aurelia, do you happen to have any of your headache powder down here?"

"Oh, aren't you feeling well, Abbot?"

"It's not for me, Aurelia. When Vanessa asked me to come down here with her request, she was looking quite green around the gills. We were up late last night, with some of Urthblood's captains and blackberry brandy for company. Perhaps a bit too much of the latter, in Vanessa's case!"

The healer mouse shared a chuckle with the old Abbot. "Our Abbess with a hangover? That's got to be a first! Just a moment, I think we do keep some of that powder down here ... " Sister Aurelia went to a cupboard on the far side of the kitchens, sorted through an assortment of spice and herb jars, and returned triumphantly holding out a small packet of white powder. "Here we go! Let me just mix this into a glass of water for you, and it'll be all ready to drink. You can take it right out to her."

Arlyn waited while Aurelia prepared the concoction; only a small spoonful of the remedy was needed, dissolved into a full-sized cup.

"There you go, Arlyn. I must say, it feels strange ministering to the mouse who trained me as Infirmary keeper! Tell Vanessa to watch her drink from now on, or next time I'll double the dose!"

Arlyn sniffed at the cup; it wasn't a particularly appealing aroma. "I'll pass that along to her, Sister Aurelia. It should be incentive enough to keep her sober for seasons to come!"

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Arlyn found Vanessa waiting for him out in Great Hall, leaning against one of the side tables, fumbling to get her habit cord tied. By the look of things, she wasn't having an easy time of it.

"Need a paw, Nessa?"

She looked up at her old mentor, saw the cup he held, and gave up on the cord, leaving its ends hanging loose from her waist. "No, but I do need that. Thanks, Arlyn." Vanessa took the cup from him and raised it to her lips. Although her nose wrinkled in distaste as she caught a whiff of the medicine, she downed it in one long swallow. "There, that should do the trick. Hate that taste, though."

"Well, remember it the next time you feel like tasting so much blackberry brandy," Arlyn teased.

"That wasn't any ordinary blackberry brandy. It couldn't have been. I suspect you were keeping some of the really potent stuff for yourself, and that's what you unleashed on us. And I'll say another thing, those Northlanders like their toasts as much as any Redwaller."

"I thought the whole point was to get them drunk, not you."

"I wasn't drunk!" Vanessa protested, more loudly than she should have, for she immediately winced and held a paw to her head. "Oo, that stuff sure creeps up on you. I know I wasn't drunk, but if this isn't a hangover, then I'm an otter!" She gazed blearily at Arlyn. "You look in fine fettle this morning. I could swear you drank as much as I did last night. What's your secret?"

"Small helpings, small sips. You filled your cup too full each time. If you're going for endurance, you've got to make your drinking partners think you're imbibing more than your really are."

"I see. And tell me, just how does a distinguished retired Abbot come to have experience in such matters?"

"Let's just say that before I became Abbot, I spent my share of nights sitting up with Redwall's otters ... and their spicy shrimp stew isn't the only thing with a kick to it that they enjoy!"

"And why didn't you warn me about this last night?"

"And tip off our guests as to what we were really trying to do? That wouldn't have been very wise, would it?" Arlyn took the cup back and gazed into Vanessa's bloodshot eyes. "Why don't you go back upstairs and go back to bed. That drink will have you back in sorts in a couple of hours. In the meantime, you're not doing anybeast any good, forcing yourself to be up and around. I can handle things down here until you're feeling better."

She smiled weakly. "You won't get much of an argument from me. I'll see you at breakfast ... maybe. Don't wait up for me if I'm late." With her habit cord still dangling from her paws, the Abbess of Redwall beat an ignominious retreat up the stairs to her bedchamber.

Arlyn watched Vanessa's retreat, remembering the night before. She was right; she hadn't been drunk - well, maybe a bit fuzzy in the head - but they'd still been able to coherently discuss the revelations of their Northlands guests.

Arlyn had accepted Abellon's invitation to join Urthblood's warriors out in the meadows during the drills today. As before, he would be joined by Maura, Alexander and Montybank, but still Vanessa was not entirely enamored of the idea. Even if all these fighting beasts were indeed well-intentioned, accidents did happen. One slip of paw or claw, one misdirected blade, and there might be a funeral at Redwall.

It was also why Vanessa had finally ordered Friar Hugh to produce some Redwall kitchen fare for all the soldiers outside. If these troops, accustomed to hardtack rations and foraged meals, got some decent food in their bellies, it must surely improve their dispositions, and reduce the chances of any unfortunate incidents during their practice drills. At least that was her hope ... and Arlyn's too.

This early, with the sun not yet risen, the only light in Great Hall came from a couple of low-guttering torches and the small lantern that Vanessa had brought with her, now left behind on the table. The daylight that filtered through the majestic stained glass windows was still an hour away from its first appearance, and the giant fireplace that blazed through so many winter nights was now dark and cold.

Arlyn shook off his momentary gloominess and headed toward the outside doors. Perhaps a walk around the Abbey grounds under the brightening predawn sky would lift his spirits. Already the lower levels of Redwall were filling with the mouth-watering aroma of the first batches of bread out of the ovens. Soon every resident of the Abbey would be up and about, and it would be difficult to stay somber with so much friendly bustle going on around him.

00000000000

The badger Mother of Redwall hurried along the walltop toward her Abbot. "Arlyn, we have a bit of a problem."

Arlyn flicked breakfast crumbs from his whiskers. "What is it, Maura?"

"I know I was supposed to go out with you and Monty and Alex this morning, but I just learned that Urthblood and Machus are going to stay inside the Abbey, and let the other captains oversee the battle practice. They want to discuss some things by themselves, and since Vanessa told me it was my job to keep a close eye on that fox whenever he was inside our walls ... what do you think I should do?"

"Hmm ... " Arlyn gazed thoughtfully out over the wall. He'd decided to take his morning meal up on the ramparts, so that he could observe the effects of Friar Hugh's fresh warm bread upon the vast array of Northland warriors. Even from up here, he could see that this calculated offering was indeed having the desired effect; he could see the delighted smiles on the faces of the nearest soldiers, and could almost feel their spirits being lifted. Hugh had had to work like a demon to get enough bread baked in time, but the effort had been worth it. Arlyn was now much less concerned about venturing out into that horde.

He glanced the other way, down into the Abbey grounds where Lord Urthblood was finishing up breakfast with his captains and most of the Redwall leaders. Abbess Vanessa was conspicuously absent, still sleeping off the effects of the previous night.

"I think Alex and Monty can handle any problems we run into out there. I trust Abellon to be a good guide, and we'll probably spend most of our time with the mouse regiment anyway. You stick with Machus. Maybe you can learn something by listening in on his discussion with Urthblood."

"Okay. Um ... what if they don't want me listening in?"

Arlyn pondered this. "Well, this is our Abbey, and we have no secrets here, so we don't expect our guests to have any either. If they plan to discuss something we weren't meant to know, I don't think Lord Urthblood would have chosen to hold his meeting with Machus inside Redwall."

"We have no secrets, huh?" Maura shifted uncomfortably on her feet. "And here we are, playing spy on Lord Urthblood and his captains. I was never cut out for such subterfuge, Arlyn."

The retired Abbot studied his old badger friend. "Do you think we're wrong to do this, Maura?"

"No ... no, if he's going to keep the company of foxes, he should expect as much." She turned to leave. "You're right, it probably won't be a problem. If they question my presence, I'll think of something. But for the sake of our little ones, I'll not leave that fox alone as long as he's in Redwall."

00000000000

When breakfast was finished, Arlyn, Alexander and Montybank accompanied Urthblood's captains out the south wallgate into the sunny meadow. The Northlanders reclaimed their weaponry from the otter and squirrel guards who waited at the gate to see them out. Lady Mina went with them, but Urthblood and Machus remained inside the Abbey to hold their meeting.

Monty was in high spirits as he marched out alongside the otter captain Saybrook; the two of them were becoming more friendly with each day that passed. Warnokur, with Urthblood's leave, was spending his nights in the Abbey with his son, but he was still a soldier in the Badger Lord's forces, and required to drill along with the rest of the troops. Winokur tagged along with his father, revelling in the chance to be part of something bigger than the modest otter guard of Redwall for a change.

Monty puffed up his chest and drew in a deep breath of the fresh morning air as their procession passed out through the south wallgate. "Ah, wallopin' good morn fer some wallopin'! Think I'll join you, Saybrook matey, when yer waterdogs start yer ol' pole smackin'. Show you how us Redwallers handle ourselves 'gainst nastybeasts. Not that any o' yer lot are nasty! P'raps I can demonstrate on some o' these weasels 'n' rats ... mebbe even a fox or three."

"Sorry, pal," Saybrook replied, "we'll be stickin' to our own squads t'day, no intersquad drills, so it'll be just us otters."

"Shame. Coulda gone fer a go-round with these vermin ... rapped a few of 'em on th' noggin, see if they really do sound hollow."

The vermin captains were marching nearby, certainly close enough to hear Montybank, who made no effort to keep his voice low. A few of them cast scornful glances at the boisterous otter, but none said anything in protest.

"Uh, Monty," Alex reminded him, "we're just here to observe, not to take part in the fighting."

"Oh, it ain't real fightin', Alex ... just some play 'mongst honorable beats." Monty had brought his own javelin, and now twirled it casually in one paw as he walked, so fast that the weapon whistled in the air. "More a contest or game, right, Saybrook?"

"Won't seem like a game to us if Urthblood catches us shirking, or we find ourselves on the battlefield with rusty skills." Saybrook tried to keep his tone jovial, but the Redwallers could hear the serious undertone beneath the supposedly off-the-paw remark. "But if you wanna try yer pole 'gainst some of us, be my guest. Word o' warnin', tho': I imagine you'll wanna watch us a spell first, scope out what you'll be up against."

Abellon said to Arlyn and Alex, "While your waterdog pal's playing with his newfound friends, I'm sure you'll both want to come observe my squad. Since Redwall's currently without an Abbey Champion, I'll wager none of you have ever seen mice who can swing blades like we can!"

Both Arlyn and Alexander were mindful of Vanessa's admonition that they all stick together. "Uh, actually, Abellon, we're interested in seeing the otters drill too," said the old Abbot. "Nothing like otters, once they get going. We'll spend some time with Saybrook first, then head over your way a little later."

"As you wish. We'll be at our usual spot, near the wall toward the woods that way. I'll see you when I see you."

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For his debriefing with Machus, Urthblood chose a small treestump table between the orchard and the south wall, an out-of-the-way spot where they were not likely to be interrupted by Redwallers performing daily chores.

Both beasts were surprised when Maura took a seat with them unbidden, turning their face-to-face twosome into a three-way circle around the stump.

"Thank you, Maura, but we don't require anything," the Badger Lord intoned in polite dismissal.

"Oh, the Abbess wanted me to attend you," Maura said as casually as she could. "Just keeping up Redwall hospitality. I won't interfere - you won't even know I'm here, unless you need something."

"It is really not necessary," Urthblood insisted. "Machus and I will be discussing many technical military matters which I am sure you would find not the least bit interesting. We will probably be here most of the morning. It will grow very tedious for you, very quickly."

"Well, it's a beautiful day for a snooze. Give me a poke if I start snoring too loudly."

"I wouldn't want to keep you from your duties," Urthblood said. "Don't you have to look after the children?"

"Today it's Balla and Sister Aurelia's turn to take care of those little roughnecks. This'll be like a vacation for me."

"I can think of better ways to spend your day off."

"It's at the behest of the Abbess, so ... " Maura held up her paws in an obvious "what can I do about it?" gesture. That, together with the bland smile she put on, made it plain that she was powerless to defy the will of her Abbess.

"And just when did the Abbess tell you this?" Urthblood asked. "It was certainly not during breakfast, since she was nowhere to be seen."

"Oh. Um, it was Abbot Arlyn who passed her wishes along to me. And he was most clear about it."

"As you wish." Urthblood turned away from his fellow badger to address his swordfox captain. "Let us begin, Machus ... "

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Captain Saybrook and his otters put on their best show for the Redwallers. After observing for a few minutes, Montybank stepped in to try his skill against some of them, and came away duly impressed. While none of the Northlanders was able to relieve Monty of his weapon or land a solid blow on him, Monty was likewise unable to score a decisive victory against any of his opponents.

He rejoined Arlyn and Alexander on the sidelines when Saybrook's squad switched from javelins to loaded slings, a weapon at which Monty was not nearly so skilled.

"Right fine lot o' soldiers, that," he declared, wiping away the perspiration from his brow. "Hope you took good notice, Wink laddie - that's what real solderin's all about!"

"Yes, sir," the young otter said. "Monty, sir, is it all right if I stay here with Dad? This's his proper squad."

"Best thing for it, keepin' company with these troopers. Watch an' learn, Wink. We're off to th' mouse batallion now ... see if those liddle scamps c'n battle as good as Saybrook's mateys. We'll catch you up fer lunch. That's appetite-buildin' work, drillin' like that! Prob'ly need seconds on my second helpin's t'day!"

"What's unusual about that?" Alex asked rhetorically. They all chuckled at Monty's feigned expression of petulent hurt, then made off for the mouse division of Urthblood's army.

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Lady Mina and a fox named Tolar escorted the Redwallers to their next destination. By this time, all the squads were fully engaged in their military exercises. A clear path wound its way through a sea of fiercely battling creatures, and the Abbeydwellers were given their first chance to closely observe the full fighting capabilities of Urthblood's army. And it was impressive at all levels. The vermin appeared less skillful than the otters, shrews and hedgehogs, but they fought much more aggressively. As the small group passed one of the rat squads, Alexander leaned over to Monty and whispered, "Look at those beasts go at it! Sister Aurelia is almost sure to have some sword nicks and bruises in the Infirmary later."

To which the otter Skipper replied, "More like t' get a corpse or two outta that melee, unless they're bein' a lot more careful than they seem t' be."

At last they reached the mouse regiment, stationed near the Abbey walls. Tolar the swordfox stood by, ready to attend the Redwallers with anything else they might need. Mina went forward with the rest to hail Captain Abellon.

One brown head atop a slender neck stuck up far above the others in the mouse squad. Monty made a sour face. "Hey, wot's that sodden stoat doin' smack in th' middle o' all these fine mouse fellers?"

Alex gave the otter a discreet poke in the ribs, hoping to make Monty lower his voice. "You remember, we told you about that mouse who chained himself to a stoat, to be responsible for the wretch ... "

"Oh, yeah, right. Hmm ... quite a sacrifice fer any upstandin' beast, bein' chained to a stoat. Rather take a soak in a stagnant pool, m'self."

Most of the Northland mouse warriors worked with shorter, shrew-style swords, but a few favored longer blades. Consequently, Abellon's troops were split into two camps as they drilled, although a few of the short-bladers were trying their paws against their longsword comrades. Arlyn inquired about this to Mina.

"Well, think about it," the Gawtrybe Lady said. "Even those who carry only the shorter weapons might have to face longer blades in an actual battle, not to mention pikes and spears, and would have to know how to fight such an enemy."

Spying the Redwallers, Abellon broke off from his practice duel and jogged over to greet them. He carried a shortsword in one paw and a broadsword in the other. When he noticed that his newfound Abbey friends were regarding this with curiosity, he grinned and held up both blades.

"Two-fisted justice!" he said, still breathing hard from his exercises. "Many's the foe who's had to yield or fall before this mouse!"

"Yes, we were watching you," Arlyn nodded. "Most impressive, the way you wielded two blades at once. I can't imagine that any of Redwall's Champions could have done it any better."

Abellon seemed flustered by such an comparison. "Well, um, that's quite a compliment, Abbot. Greatly appreciated." The mouse captain sheathed his shortsword at his side and drove the other blade point-first into the soft earth to stand on its own. He glanced enviously toward the sword of Martin that Montybank wore at his waist. "Wish I had a sword like that to call my own. Unfortunately, Machus and his foxes are the only ones in this outfit who rate arms of that quality."

"Yes, why is that?" Arlyn asked. "I should think Lord Urthblood would want to provide such fine weapons to all of his captains. Why just the foxes?"

"Because they're in a class by themselves. My lads're good, but those swordfoxes ... " Abellon threw a glance toward Tolar, standing at ease but attentive on the outskirts of the mouse division. "Anyways, I see you're wearin' the legendary sword of Redwall's Champions, friend Montybank. Wouldja care to join us for a bit, maybe show us some tricks you Redwall warriors have been keeping to yourselves?"

"Who, me?" Monty gave an uncharacteristically abashed shrug. "Naw, javelin an' quarterstaff's my home turf. Ol' Alex here could prob'ly swing this piece o' steel better'n me."

"Maybe," said Alexander, "but archery's my main strength. I don't think I'd be a match for any of your mice with a blade, Abellon."

"Well, maybe you could just step in for a few friendly swings, huh? I promise we'll go easy on ya!"

"We came out here mainly to observe, but if that was a request ... "

"I'd be mighty honored to have you drill with us a bit," Abellon said. "Let me catch my breath a smidgen, and then you can show us what you can do with that fancy sword of yours!"

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"Hey, Jansy, that bushtail sure can swing 'is sword sumpthing good."

"Yeah, Broggs, 'ee's doin' lot's better than I'd've figured for an archerbeast. I think Cap'n Abellon's havin' us pull our punches a bit, but that Redwall squirrel would've held his own in any battle Lord Urthblood's ever fought. If'n he can do that good with a sword, I c'n only imagine what he's like with bow an' arrow."

All of Abellon's regiment had stopped their individual drilling and now stood gathered around the Redwallers, watching Alexander trying his paw with the sword of Martin against various members of the mouse squad. Alex was able to hold his own admirably against any Northlander who stood in to face him, even if they were going easy on him. It was clear that he was doing better than any of them had expected, and they were all enjoying the display.

The manacled duo of Jans the mouse and Broggen the stoat stood at the rear of the gathering. Broggen had no trouble seeing over the top of all the shorter mice, but Jans had to strain on his pawtips for a clear view of the proceedings.

Alex finally stepped back from his latest opponent, holding up a paw for surcease. "Okay, I've had enough for one day! I'm not accustomed to using these muscles so much. I'll be aching tomorrow for sure!" He started to pass the ancient sword back to Monty, but a voice from the small crowd made him pause.

Sensing that the Redwallers were getting ready to move on, Jans gave his companion's wrist a tug on their shared manacle. Broggen obediently followed the mouse forward. "Nice show, treejumper!" Jans proclaimed, striding forward through his companions. "But surely you aren't leaving, without giving me 'n' Broggs our turn?"

The Redwallers stared at the chained mouse and stoat as if they must be joking. "You ... you want to fight?" Alex was incredulous.

"That's the idea, matey."

Alexander turned to Captain Abellon. "I can't duel him, with that stoat chained to him like that. It would hardly be fair."

Alex had meant to imply that Jans, even with his superior sword skills, would be encumbered by the larger animal. But Abellon chose to take his words differently.

"That's true, friend Alexander. You're tired and winded from your fightplay so far. So, to make this a fair contest, you'll need a partner." Abellon pointed to Montybank. "You, good sir otter, would you mind stepping in with your javelin? You can take on Broggen while your pal crosses blades with Jans."

"Are ye sure?" Monty asked. "They're chained t'gether ... they're sure t' get in each other's way."

"One would think so, wouldn't one?" Abellon said knowingly, and asked Jans, "Are you agreeable to this?"

"Wouldn't miss it fer th' world," Jans grinned.

Broggen nodded in agreement. "'m game."

Monty advanced, twirling his javelin staff. "Okay, if'n ye're up fer it, so'm I!"

Broggen brandished his own javelin and assumed a fighting stance, while Jans traded in his shortsword for Abellon's longer blade. The duo stood at a slight angle to one another, so that each could partly protect the other's back.

Alex sighed as he once more raised the sword of Martin. "Oh, well. Lay on, friends!"

And lay on they did. Over the next few minutes, the two Redwallers were amazed by the chained Northlanders' ability to meet them on equal terms. Even with one paw manacled to his partner, Jans was as skilled as any of Abellon's soldiers that Alex had faced that morning. Broggen was even more of a revelation; with just his left-pawed javelin, he was able to counter every move that Montybank tried against him. The otter even had to go on the defensive several times, when the stoat surprised him with a block that would follow through and turn into an attack thrust. Only the mouse chained to him prevented Broggen from pressing his brief advantages more aggressively.

"Awright, Alex matey," the otter called out after parrying another thrust from Broggen, "wot say we show our Northland friends wot we Redwallers c'n really do!"

Alexander didn't want to show how tired he was growing, and so nodded. "Fine by me." As one, he and Monty stepped up the tempo of their fighting, each striving to be the first to relieve his opponent of their weapon.

"Don't go light on us fer my sake," Jans laughed as he met the Redwall squirrel's newly invigorated offensive. "I'd feel cheated if you didn't give us yer best!"

Broggen merely grunted as he fended off Redwall's otter Skipper.

For a few moments it seemed that the two Northlanders would be able to meet even the best that Alex and Monty could throw at them. But then Alex caught Jans's blade in a tricky thrust and twist maneuver that wrenched the plain hilt from his opponent's grasp. The broadsword landed on the grass two paces away.

"There y'go, Alex matey!" Monty cheered. "Now it's my - whoa!"

Upon seeing his comrade bereft of his blade, Broggen instantly faked a swing at Monty's face. Even as the otter instinctively moved to block it, Broggen dropped his sturdy rod down between Monty's footpaws and knocked the otter's legs out from under him, spilling the Redwaller roughly to the ground.

In the same motion that toppled the otter, Broggen's javelin arced around and came to rest with its sharp point jabbing slightly into Alex's neck fur. The squirrel froze.

Barely had Broggen achieved this pose than Monty's own javelin point poked into the stoat's throat.

"Drop it, friend," Monty ordered, in a tone that was not the least bit friendly.

For several heartbeats, the tense scene held frozen like a living sculpture: Monty with his javelin at Broggen's throat, Broggen with his javelin at Alexander's throat, and Alex staring wide-eyed, not daring to flex a single muscle.

The perilous tableau was shattered by hearty laughter. It was Jans, who playfully slapped Broggen's javelin down into an unthreatening attitude. The stoat was calm-faced, almost oblivious to Monty's javelin which still rested on his collarbone.

"And there you see how we do it in the Northlands," Jans said cheerfully. "If you'd been some vile villain or slaver, Broggs here wouldn't have stopped until his staff was stickin' out the back o' yer skull."

Monty finally lowered his weapon, seeing that the apparent danger was past. "Aye, but you'd've been chained to one dead stoat."

"Not so, sir," Jans disagreed. "You see, you're an otter Skipper, highly trained an' very agile. No foebeast up north could've righted itself so quickly, nor recovered its wits so fast as you just did. Broggs woulda had plenty o' time to run both o' you through, an' keep me covered while I retrieved my sword." Jans ducked down and did just that, grabbing up the long blade and offering it back to Abellon in the same motion that he popped back up onto his feet ... all without budging his chained comrade from the spot where Broggen stood rooted.

"He'd still hafta be one quicker'n-whitewater rapids stoat," Monty said dubiously, regarding the pleasant-faced Broggen.

Abellon spoke for the first time since the duel had begun. "If you have any doubts, friend Montybank, let me assure you that I have seen these two do exactly what Jans just described, more than once. Jans and Broggen are our secret weapon, of sorts. Foebeasts come at us, thinking we're just a rank of meek mice, but then we unleash this twosome. Seen 'em carve out a breach in an enemy's attack front clear through to their rearguard. We just follow 'em into the gap, divide an' conquer ... No meek mice in this regiment, that's for sure!" Abellon patted Broggen on the lower back. "Or cowardly stoats, either."

"Yes, um, most impressive," Alex said, passing his venerable sword back to Monty. He was still somewhat shaken by the mouse/stoat duo's ability to score against them. "I'd almost think they'd been given lessons from the spirit of Martin the Warrior himself!"

"Well, let's not forget," Abellon grinned slyly, "Martin did come to Mossflower from the Northlands. Perhaps Redwall Abbey isn't the only old home of his where his spirit still dwells!"

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High up on the walltop, almost directly above the spot where Abellon's squad was stationed, Cyril stood motionless, struck immobile by what he'd just witnessed. Redwall's Skipper of otters, knocked down by a stoat? And the stoat's mouse partner had nearly held his own against Alexander - an impressive feat, even if the squirrel's first weapon was not the sword. All the Northland mice had performed well against Alexander, but there was something special about this mouse/stoat duo. To have faced both Alex and Monty at the same time, and nearly have won ... Cyril remained still for a long time, staring down at the scene even after the visiting Redwallers had departed from Abellon's regiment.

"Hello, Cyril!"

The young mouse's reverie was broken by Brother Joel, who stood on the ramparts a short distance away. "Yes, sir?"

"Isn't it getting time for you to start sounding the bells for lunch?"

"Oh, um ... yes, I s'pose so ... " But Cyril found it hard to pull himself away from the battlement stone.

"Well, hadn't you better get going?" Joel prompted. "By the time you climb down from the wall, cross the lawns to the bell tower and climb up to the belfrey ... "

"Uh, okay." Reluctantly, Cyril tore himself from the militaristic panorama below him and started for the wall steps. But his mind still dwelt far from the thoughts that would be expected of a young novice bellringer.

Perhaps, if the Abbess and Montybank and the other Abbey leaders would not take his warrior's aspirations seriously, he would find some other warriors to train him. And after what he'd just seen, he knew exactly where to look for such a teacher. Or teachers.


	7. Chapter 19

THE CRIMSON BADGER - Chapter Nineteen

Arlyn, Alex and Monty took a roundabout way back to the south wallgate, so that they could view more of Urthblood's troops as they drilled. Along this route they passed squads of shrews, hedgehogs, rats and ferrets. Although the Redwallers didn't stop to watch any of them, the woodlanders moseyed along slowly so that they could get one last good eyeful of the Northlanders' battle skills before returning to the Abbey. The swordfox Tolar conducted them through the field of mock warfare, gracious as an escort but as formally aloof and unsparing of idle pleasantries as his badger master.

Montybank twiddled at his whiskers with one paw as they passed the ferret regiment. "Fanatics!" the otter Skipper declared to old Arlyn, waving a flipper toward all the fighting beasts around them. "Creatures don't practice like this just t' keep up appearances. An' it goes beyond stayin' sharp. These're fanatics, plain 'n' simple. Not just th' vermin either, but even th' mice an' the others too ... 'specially th' shrews!"

"Actually," Mina said from behind him, where she walked with Alex, "we prefer to be called 'dedicated.'"

Monty glanced back at the squirrel Lady, sputtering with chagrin. "Profuse pardons, ma'am. Wasn't referrin' to you, o' course."

"Don't be too quick to apologize, my friend," Mina said to the otter. "It's not the first time we've been called fanatics, and I doubt it will be the last. But I assure you, up north the Gawtrybe are widely held to be the best - or worst - of them all." She smiled. "Even the shrews have nothing on us."

They were approaching the wallgate when the mellow bonging of the Methuselah and Matthias bells announced the start of the lunch hour. Monty immediately perked up, his faux pas with Lady Mina forgotten at the prosect of another imminent Redwall repast.

"Ahh, another hearty midday meal awaits!" he exclaimed. "Hope our ol' Friar has somethin' special in store fer alla us mornin' warriors! I could eat four trout an' a badger!"

Arlyn gave a smirk. "I don't think Lord Urthblood would take too kindly to your choice of entree, and Maura will wallop you if you even try to put her on your plate!"

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Neither badger nor trout was on the menu that day, but Montybank had no cause for complaint. The returning Redwallers were greeted with a veritable feast of thick Mossflower vegetable stew, spicy shrimp and hotroot soup, a heaping platter of lettuce-and-leek pasties, and a king-sized deeper'n'ever pie. The explanation for this surfeit of edible riches was simple: Friar Hugh had worked so hard that morning making extra bread for Urthblood's soldiers that the other Abbeybeasts felt it only fair that they lend a paw in preparing the midday meal. The deep tater 'n' turnip 'n' beetroot pie was courtesy of the moles, naturally, while Monty's otters had done him proud in his absence with their spicy soup specialty. There had been more than a few curt words that morning as moles and otters competed for kitchen space, but by some miracle both groups had managed to complete their offerings by lunchtime.

Monty could very easily have polished off half the deeper'n'ever pie all by himself, but he restrained himself to a mere two heaping platefuls, when he saw the multi-tiered quince crumble with butter rum cream that was waiting for dessert. "Gotta save some room in me stomach pouch fer that," he announced to nobeast in particular. "Too much effort gone inta that wunnerful crumble t' waste it by not wastin' any of it on me!" And so enough of the moles' entree was spared the otter's ravages for all the woodlanders to have as much as they wanted.

The day was too glorious to even consider eating indoors, so lunch was served out on the lawns once more. Of Urthblood's forces, only Machus, Mina and the Badger Lord himself took their meal inside the Abbey; all the other captains remained outside the wall with their troops.

Abbess Vanessa, making her first appearance since recovering from her hangover, passed Maura as they were getting seated. The badger matriarch had spent all morning with Machus and Urthblood, and Vanessa was curious as to whether her friend had learned anything useful.

"I learned there's a lot more to running an army than I'd ever realized," Maura said. "Reports on every soldier in that army, every weapon carried between them, every scrap of food in their packs and stitch of clothing on their backs, not to mention every step of their journey from the Northlands to Redwall ... my head is swimming! And they didn't even finish! They're going back for more after lunch." She glanced around furtively. "I don't want to go into any more detail right now, but I'll fill you in fully when we can get together later this evening. For now, I'm off to help Sister Aurelia with the little ones. Looking after those sweet devils can run a beast ragged sometimes, but it'll be a pleasant break after this morning. Playing mother I'm good at, but I wasn't cut out for military administration!"

Vanessa nodded and smiled, in case any of their guests were looking their way. "So, nothing pressing?"

"No. Nothing that can't keep 'til tonight." Maura started off toward the children's table, where Sister Aurelia was striving to keep her charges orderly. "Looks like we've got a good spread this time. Let me go make sure more ends up in our little ones' mouths than on the lawn!"

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Conversation around the head table was limited to small talk. With Urthblood and Machus seated in their midst, Arlyn and Monty and Alex were guarded in their comments about their observations of Urthblood's army. The retired Abbot could be particularly diplomatic, and the others let Arlyn do most of the talking. He had a perfect manner, keeping a friendly face as he complimented the badger warrior on the skill of his Northland troops. His tone was most innocent and ingenuous, betraying nothing of the close scrutiny that had been the real reason for their tour of the army. A couple of times he came perilously close to coming off like a country bumpkin (at least to his fellow Redwallers, who knew that Arlyn was still sharp for his age), but his advanced seasons allowed him to get by with the ploy in a way that none of the other Abbey leaders could have.

Alex and Lady Mina were taking their lunch off with the other squirrels, while Maura helped Sister Aurelia with the children. They had their paws full this day; like Cyril, most of the younger Abbeydwellers had spent some time that morning up on the walltop, and the sight of so many soldierbeasts going through their battle drills had the little ones all riled up. Maura and Aurelia barely had the opportunity for two bites between them, their rambunctious charges keeping them thoroughly occupied, racing away from their table and all across the lawns willy-nilly. After a while they gave up trying, content to sit and keep a watchful eye from their bench. With all the vermin captains outside, there really wasn't any danger to guard against. So long as the youngsters didn't bother any of their elders or make a real nuisance of themselves, the two guardians gave them free rein to tumble about and play mock soldier as they pleased.

As dessert was being served, about half the squirrels detached from their main group and headed off toward the east grounds. Little Droge and Cuffy, who'd been cavorting near the Mossflower Patrol as they ate, suddenly came hurrying back to their playmates.

"Tourment!" Droge yelled with glee. "There's gonna be a tourment!"

Maura looked severely down at her number-one troublemaker. "You've given us all enough torment for one day. No more, please!"

The young hedgehog stared blankly at her for a few seconds, then laughed hysterically. "You're funny, Mother Maura! No, there's gonna be a archry tourment, 'tween th' squirrels." Droge held up his paws and sighted along an imaginary bow and arrow. "Thhwum!" he mouthed, releasing his invisible shaft.

"Well, that should be fun," Aurelia said. "Alex has been wanting to show off his aim ever since Lord Urthblood arrived. It's about time."

Maura gazed across the lawns to where Lady Mina still sat with the remaining squirrels. "Something tells me that Lord Urthblood isn't the one Alex is trying to impress."

"Well, Alex had better not let Elmwood or any of the others show him up, if that's his plan for winning Lady Mina."

Maura chuckled . "If you ask me, they've won each other already. Only thing they haven't done yet is announce the wedding date. Besides, when's the last time Alexander let anybeast best him at a round of target practice?"

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Most of the Abbey turned out to watch the archery display on the east lawns. While a number of Redwallers were adept with bow and arrow, the squirrels of the Forest Patrol were the undisputed masters and in a class by themselves, and this afternoon was for them alone. Even Machus and Urthblood postponed their briefing to observe the tournament, much to Maura's relief.

Targets were set up against the inside of the north wall, positioned so that the archers could stand as near or as far as they wished. The summer sun was at its golden full, barely having begun the descent from its zenith, bathing the Abbey grounds in brilliant sunshine and affording perfect illumination for the games at paw. The air down here on the lawns held only the faintest breath of a breeze. A better day for flying shafts had never been made.

Lady Mina was granted special leave by the Abbess - at Alexander's insistance - to take up her bow and quiver for this special occasion. Alex had offered the squirrel Lady free use of any weaponry of the Mossflower Patrol, but Mina was firm that she could only use her own. Rather than force Mina to miss out on the contest, Vanessa allowed her to reclaim her arms from the otters guarding the south gate, who were holding them while she stayed in Redwall.

Every member of the Patrols took at least one turn on the shooting line. Alexander took several, and none of his fellow squirrels, not even Elmwood, could match their chief's skill with the longbow. He scored several bull's-eyes, and never did his shots stray far from the center of the target.

Lady Mina sat out the first rounds, content to observe and assess the skill of the Redwall archers. Finally, after every squirrel of the Patrols had a chance to demonstrate its ability, Alex waved for Mina to come over and join him at the line.

"I hope we haven't intimidated you," he said against the smattering of applause from the ranks of impressed Abbeydwellers. Secretly, he hoped he'd impressed Lady Mina just as much. "I'd really like to see what you can do with your bow. Don't worry about trying to stack up against us ... just do the best you can. Remember, we're all friends here."

Mina smiled coyly. "Oh, I wouldn't try to compete at your level. But I'd like to try something different."

"Oh? Such as?"

"Well, you all shoot very nicely standing neatly on a line, at an unmoving target, when you've got all the time in the world to line up your shot and get yourselves all set. I was wondering how well you'd do under different circumstances. In the midst of battle, targets don't stand still and wait for you to get comfortable while you're gauging your shot."

"No, I suppose not," Alex admitted uncertainly, not sure what Mina was getting at. "So what did you have in mind?"

"In the Northlands, we shoot for speed as well as accuracy." Mina hefted her longbow. "We start with an unstrung bow. The challenge is to make it battle ready as quickly as possible, and then to launch as many shafts as accurately as we can on top of that. If you're game, perhaps you and I can try a round the Northlands way."

"Hmm ... that sounds interesting. I've never shot that way before, but sure, I'm game. You're our guest, after all."

Alexander traded his bow for another which was unstrung. He and Lady Mina took their places at the shooting line, each with a ready bowstring and a full quiver. Elmwood served as the starting official and judge, who would tell them when to begin and keep track of the count and accuracy of the shots.

Alex knelt on one knee, as he saw Mina doing. "Just string and shoot, as quickly as I can? That's it?"

Mina nodded. "We each have twelve arrows. We'll shoot until they're all used up. Whoever empties their quiver first is the winner in the speed category. Then we'll look at the targets, to see whose aim was better. Elmwood will tally the two together, to determine the winner."

Standing on the sideline, Elmwood held up his pad and inked stylus. "All set here, M'Lady. Whenever you're ready."

Alexander and Mina nodded at each other, paws on their unstrung bows. "Make the call, Elmwood," Alex said.

"Okay. Ready ... set ... go!"

What happened next would be talked about for generations of Redwallers to come. The two squirrels reached for their bowstrings as one. But Mina's, which Alex had not inspected closely, ended in a pair of iron caps that allowed her to literally snap the string into place at the proper tension, while Alex had to wrap his cord around each end of his bow in the traditional manner. He was still finishing his first end as Mina set her first arrow to her string and shot.

The bowstring twanged. Even as Mina's arrow sank into the bull's-eye of her target, she was pulling out her second shaft and setting it to her string. She loosed it while Alex frantically worked to get his bow strung. He glanced up just long enough to see her second arrow land in the target so close to the first that it shaved the guide feathers of its predecessor. But Mina was already reaching for her third arrow. Alex returned his attention to his task, but looked up again at a strange splintering sound he'd only heard a very few times in his life.

Mina's third shot had landed exactly atop her first in the center of the bull's-eye, shattering the first arrow to toothpicks!

And still Mina kept on, like a machine, notching her next shaft as soon as the last had left her bowstring. It was like she was in a trance, oblivious to Alex or the other creatures around her.

Alex never did finish stringing his bow. By the time Mina had let her fourth shot fly, he just settled back onto his haunches, entranced by this incredible display. Not only did he have no hope of catching up to her, but the quality of her shots would be nearly impossible for him to match. Instead, he just sat and stared, as mesmerized as any of his fellow Redwallers.

At last Mina turned to Alex, breathing heavily as if she'd been holding her breath all this time. Her quiver was empty. She'd shot a dozen arrows; three of them had shattered ones which already stood in the bull's-eye, and none had gone farther than two arrow-widths from the center. Most of the Abbeydwellers stood staring with dropped jaws.

"Alex, you've still got some arrows left," Mina observed casually, eyeing his still-full quiver.

After staring at her for a moment in disbelief, Alexander fell back onto his tail, guffawing like an idiot.

"That was ... unbelievable!" he gasped out between racks of laughter. "I've never seen ... anything ... like ... that. And there I was, telling you not to worry about keeping up with us!" Alex climbed back onto his feet, wiping tears from his eyes. "I owe you an apology. I'm so used to being the champion archer of Mossflower, it never occured to me that you might have a thing or two to show me about launching an arrow. I feel like a fool. Please accept my apology, for so underestimating your skills."

"No need to apologize, Alex," Mina said. "It was a fair challenge, and I put you in your place. That's the Gawtrybe way."

"Yes, well, if I'm ever going to visit your home up north, I'm going to have to brush up on my shooting. Do they all shoot like that where you come from?"

"My brother Marinus is better than I am. He has to be, to command the respect of all the Gawtrybe. But as for the rest ... " Mina glanced around at the assembled members of the Mossflower Patrol. "I'd say, based on what I've seen here today, that your crew could hold its own in our company if they had to. You certainly could .. as long as you weren't shooting for speed."

Alexander and the other squirrels flocked around Lady Mina for awhile, congratulations flying on her handy defeat of their ace shooter and compliments uttered over her own ability. Elmwood and a few of the others wandered over to the targets, where they just stood staring at the placement of Mina's shots.

Urthblood and Machus were just about the only ones present who took the squirrel Lady's shooting skills as a matter of course. Maura looked over at the swordfox and badger warrior. "My Lord, do you expect that from Lady Mina every time?"

"More or less," Urthblood replied.

"She's, um, very good."

"Naturally. She would not be in my service otherwise." Urthblood turned to leave. "Machus and I must resume our briefing. Are you still interested in attending us?"

In truth, Maura wasn't. But she put on her best smile without missing a beat and fell into step with them. "Of course. Orders of the Abbess, after all!"

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Lady Mina's exhibition gave the Abbey folk plenty to talk about that afternoon, so there were fewer up on the wall to watch the Urthblood's army drilling.

Cyril, however, could not pull himself away. The young mouse had even stayed on the walltop during the archery tournament, his attention split between the contest within the Abbey and the military exercises continuing without. He could not get enough of watching the Northland troops going through their paces, which he did during every spare moment between his bellringing duties.

A few paces farther along the ramparts, Brother Geoff sat with Cyrus, reading through more of the historical records. A few other Redwallers were scattered along the walltop, mostly the squirrels, otters and mice serving the current sentry rotation.

Droge and a few of the other children came running along the walkway, followed by Sister Aurelia, harried as usual by her babysitting duties. The hoglet ran past Cyril and stopped by the archive searchers. "'Scuse me, Mr. Geoff, sir?"

The recorder mouse looked up from his journal to face the waiting hedgehog. "Oh, hello, Droge! How can I help you?"

"Gotta question for you, please."

"Ask away, my spikey little friend."

"If that army," Droge tried to point over the wall, but came up short due to his shortness, "fought Cluny's army, who'da won?"

Droge had spoken his question loudly enough for all to hear. Cyril came out of his personal daydream, very interested to hear what the Abbey historian had to say on this matter. Redwall's enemies had been many over the generations, but Cluny the Scourge was the standard by which all others were measured. That wicked searat had kept Redwall under siege for most of a season, and had come closer to conquering the Abbey than any other villain they'd ever faced. It had taken the full resources of Matthias, Redwall's greatest warrior since Martin himself, to defeat Cluny, and even then it had been a close thing. It was certain that no Redwaller alive now would ever have imagined they would live to see a horde such as that outside their walls. But now, the suggestion that Urthblood's force might be even greater than that of the legendary Cluny was almost inconceivable.

Geoff pursed his lips and twitched his whiskers as he considered the unusual question. "Well," he said at length, "Urthblood's force here actually outnumbers Cluny's by a hundred or so, according to the records. You know, it had never occured to me to make such a comparison. That's a very interesting speculation, Droge. Very interesting indeed."

"So, you think Lord Urthblood's army would be victorious?" Cyril asked.

"Well, of course it's impossible to know for sure, Cyril. But yes, I do believe Urthblood's army would have the advantage ... and not just in numbers. Many of Cluny's fighters had been pressed into service against their will, and were not skilled soldiers. Every one of those beasts down there now is with Urthblood by its own choice. Their dedication and loyalty to their master is clear in the way they practice. I can't imagine there has ever been an army as formidable as the one Urthblood has assembled."

Old Arlyn had been walking along the walltop himself, and approached in time to catch the end of Geoff's comments. "Indeed, Brother Geoff," the retired Abbot said. "And speaking as one who has seen those Northlanders drilling up close, and has had a chance to discuss their ability with our own Abbey defenders, I will go you one better: I believe Urthblood's army would have swept through Cluny's horde as if it weren't even there."

"Oh. Oh, my." Geoff stood to look out over the battlements. "You really think they're that good, Father Abbot?"

Arlyn nodded. "Not to diminish the victory Matthias won, but I think Urthblood's otter regiment alone could probably have dismantled Cluny's horde quite nicely. After watching them drill, I don't think there's a force in all the lands that could stand up to them."

Geoff scratched at his ear as his gaze wandered the practice field. "It's those foxes I wonder about, Arlyn. We've seen everybeast in that army put their skills on display ... except for the foxes. Do you suppose they're not all they're cracked up to be?"

Arlyn shook his head. "I don't think so. For one thing, Warnokur says he's seen Machus in action, and his sword skills are unmatched. For another, all the other captains seem to defer to them ... some of the vermin captains even seem a little afraid of them. Notice how the foxes are constantly patrolling through the rest of the army, like a show of force to keep order in the ranks? That wouldn't work for very long if they couldn't back it up, and I have a feeling there's more than just Lord Urthblood's authority behind them. No, those swords they're wearing aren't just for show. And those troops down there know it."

"Then why haven't we seen them practicing too?" Geoff wondered.

Arlyn shrugged. "It is strange. Perhaps, for some reason, Lord Urthblood doesn't want us to see his foxes at work."

"Why ever not?" said Geoff. "They can't be any more ferocious than what we've seen already from the other troops. Unless they slay each other during their practices ..."

"Hmmm ... I think their ranks would grow a bit thin after awhile if they did things that way." Arlyn started off toward the wallsteps. "Of course, there's one very simple way to solve this particular mystery."

"Oh? How?" Geoff inquired.

"Ask them."

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Arlyn and Alexander met the swordfox as he was about to leave by the south wallgate to rejoin his troops outside.

"Hello, Machus," the old Abbot greeted. "It's well on toward suppertime. You and Lord Urthblood must have had an awful lot to talk about."

"Oh, only some of it was awful," Machus replied; it took the two Redwallers a moment to realize he'd made a joke. "But, in all earnest, there are a great many matters to which Lord Urthblood must attend for a force of this size. Most creatures could never keep all our affairs straight. He not only sees to the day-to-day running of this army, but must also plan ahead to know what our needs will be before they arise. A brilliant military mind must concern itself with logistics as well as battle strategies and tactics. Food and clothing and other supplies are as vital as weaponry and ammunition, as are the ways in which our campaigns affect goodbeasts who are not directly involved in the fighting. These are the kinds of things we have been discussing today. I think you can understand why it took us so long."

"Indeed," Alexander readily agreed. "It takes all we can do just to look after the defense needs of this Abbey. Lord Urthblood has all the Northlands to consider."

"Much more than that, if his prophecy holds true," said Machus. "Salamandastron, and the coastlands, and all of Mossflower north, south and east of Redwall. It is a great responsibility, but one to which he is equal." He held out his paw toward the squirrel. "I must rejoin my foxes now. My sword, please."

Alex was holding the Northlander's weapon, fetched down from the Abbess's study where it was kept while Machus stayed inside Redwall. He started to pass it over to the swordfox, then hesitated as if a thought had only just occured to him.

"You know, we had an opportunity to see most of Lord Urthblood's troops in action up close this morning, and even tried our skills against a few of them. And that demonstration by Lady Mina was most impressive. But, we haven't seen what you can do yet. We've heard that you are a master swordsbeast, without equal in the north. What do you say to a friendly duel, Machus? There's time enough before supper ... and after that lunch today, I've certainly got the fuel to burn."

"You against me?" Machus said incredulously. "But, you are an archerbeast, not a swordfighter."

"Oh, I can swing a sword pretty well," Alex brushed aside the fox's objection. "Relieved one of Abellon's mice of his blade earlier today, as a matter of fact."

"That he did," Arlyn readily confirmed.

"I ... don't think it's such a good idea."

"Why not?" Alex pressed. "Surely you must do some mock duelling with your fellow foxes to keep your form sharp ... not that we've seen any of that so far. I wouldn't be in their league, of course. But it would just be a playful joust, for you to show off your prowess. You could go easy on me."

"It is not necessary." Machus once more held out his paw. "Now, may I please have my sword?"

Alexander stood his ground, although he kept his manner quite innocent, determined to play this scene out as far as he could.

"Not necessary? That's an odd thing for a warrior to say. Since when has that mattered to a little friendly gameplay?"

"It's just that I would not care to have anything ... unfortunate ... happen," said Machus.

Alex narrowed his eyes. "Just what is that supposed to mean?"

At that moment Urthblood sauntered by. He paused as he drew near the trio. "Is there a problem here?" he rumbled routinely.

"We've invited Machus to a friendly little duel," Alex answered, "so that he might display some of his swordship skills, but he's refused."

"Why would an archerbeast such as yourself wish to take on a master swordsbeast?" Urthblood asked Alexander.

"Um, well ... "

The Badger Lord turned to his fox captain. "Machus, do you wish to take part in such an activity?"

"I would rather not, My Lord."

"Then the matter is settled," Urthblood said with muted finality. "Is there some reason you are withholding my captain's sword from him?"

"Uh, no ... " Alexander quickly thrust the sword at Machus, who took it and slid it into its waiting scabbard. He took his leave with a formal nod and passed through the wallgate as Urthblood ambled off toward the Abbey, leaving Arlyn and Alex standing by themselves on the south lawn.

"Well," Arlyn mused after some moments, "that ploy didn't work out as planned. Maybe those foxes do slay each other when they practice."

"It would explain why there are only twenty of them," said Alexander.


	8. Chapter 20

THE CRIMSON BADGER - Chapter Twenty

That evening, there were only two guests for the Abbey supper. Lord Urthblood and Lady Mina joined the Redwallers in eating, but all of the captains, including Machus, remained outside to enjoy a more frugal dinner with their troops. Urthblood explained that it was wise to keep officers and enlisted beasts together whenever possible, so that the lower ranks would fully feel a part of this army. The captains obviously deserved some privileges to go with their increased responsibilities. But they must never seem too high above the soldiers they commanded, if this was to remain an effective fighting force.

The Badger Lord took this philosophy a step further, announcing at the end of the meal that he too would sleep outside with his army that night. Lady Mina would join him, of course. It was not for her to savor a soft Redwall bed while everybeast who'd come down from the north with her slept upon the ground under the stars.

Vanessa mildly protested that they should decline the hospitality of Redwall, but finally she accepted Urthblood's choice with the polite grace expected of an Abbess. In truth, she was only feigning disappointment. She'd called a closed-door meeting that night, one to which Urthblood and his captains were most pointedly not invited. It would have been awkward holding a session of the Abbey leaders with Urthblood on the premises, since he would be certain to notice he was being excluded from something. Now, he would not be on paw to ask embarrassing questions or observe his hosts' secrecy, and Vanessa was relieved that Urthblood had so unwittingly - and unexpectedly - assisted them by deciding to spend the night outside the walls.

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Vanessa glanced around the once-again crowded study. "We seem to be short one otter and one squirrel. Does anybeast here know what's keeping them?"

"I just saw Alex down by the south wallgate," Geoff volunteered. "He was bidding goodnight to Lady Mina before she went outside."

"Oh, no," Maura groaned. "We could be here all night, waiting for those two lovebirds to pull themselves apart. What about Monty?"

"He was making one last round of the walltop and gates before he joined us here," said Arlyn. "Wants to make sure all the entrances are properly guarded and all the sentries properly stationed while we're up here in conference. One thing I'll say for that ever-hungry otter Skipper of ours, he certainly takes his new position as seriously as he should."

"But let's not hope too seriously, eh?" Monty was halfway through the door as Arlyn finished speaking, pushing Alexander before him and nearly knocking Geoff and Foremole off their feet. The assembled Abbey leaders reshuffled themselves around Vanessa's study to make room for the two late arrivals. Monty closed the door firmly and stood with his back against it.

Vanessa was about to commence when she saw that Monty was devouring an oversized muffin - apple, by the smell of it.

"Monty! I hope you're not going to tell us you kept us all waiting just so you could run down to the kitchens for that?"

"Mmrgrf! Not at all, Nessa! Wink t'were keepin' it safe fer me - ran inta th' lad outside while I was roundin' up this lovestruck bushtail. An' a good thing, too. Can't have that scallywag scoffin' on th' job. Hardly proper waterdog form, eh?" Monty made another huge mouthful of muffin disappear, while the sweet apple aroma grew stronger in the chamber.

Maura licked her lips. "You're a fine one to speak about what's proper. You should have brought enough for all of us."

"Couldn't have managed it, Madam Stripes." Monty held up his half-finished muffin, which was still an impressive pawful. "Had t' wrangle this behemoth with one flipper, which only left me one to pull me matey away from his new ladylove. Even fer a full-fledged Skipper such as m'self, t'was almost too much. Mmrf!" The remaining muffin went to his mouth and got a little bit smaller.

"Enough of this silliness," Vanessa declared, forcing herself to keep a straight face. "We have important matters to discuss.

"It has been three days since Lord Urthblood's army came upon us. An army filled with rats, weasels, ferrets, stoats and a score of foxes carrying swords nearly the equal of Martin's. For three days, they have camped and drilled outside our walls, and their captains have broken bread with us. I instructed some of you to watch these strangers very closely. I think we've seen all that we're going to see this way. The time has come to reach a decision. Can we trust these Northlanders enough to let them into Redwall? Or do we continue to keep them outside our walls, denying them the full hospitality of our Abbey?"

"Why can't we just keep things the way they are?" Geoff asked. "It seems to have worked out well so far. At least there haven't been any unhappy incidents."

"Urthblood's troops haven't had a good washing since yesterday morning," said Vanessa. "After the way they've exercised these past two days, they'll be wanting another bath tomorrow - Urthblood said as much at dinner tonight. We all remember that rather ridiculous bucket brigade enterprise yesterday. Are we to do that again tomorrow, or shall we allow then to come into the Abbey to wash in the pond?"

Geoff spoke again. "Friar Hugh and Brother Joel are worried about the level of the pond. Those soldiers are using up an awful lot of water, even when they're not bathing. Thirstiest gang of beasts I've ever seen."

"Yes, I know," Vanessa nodded. "But it's nothing to get alarmed about just yet. The pond was very high from that storm we had. The level is still about where it should be for this time of year."

"Well, then," said Geoff, "where's the dilemma? Keep the soldiers outside, and carry water out to them like we did before. From what Lord Urthblood has told us, tomorrow should be the last bath they'll need before they leave for Salamandastron."

"This isn't about the water, Geoff. It's about trust. The question facing us now is, have we done Urthblood a disservice by mistrusting him or his motives? He is a Badger Lord, after all. If his aims are truly noble, we have dishonored him by our doubts."

"Well, Nessa, he really didn't give us any choice, did he?" Monty wiped his paws on his vest in memory of the Muffin That Was No More. "I mean, he wasn't exactly open an' forthcomin' as a guest o' this Abbey ought to've been, was he? If we were suspicious of 'im, he's only 'imself t' blame."

"Perhaps. Geoff has spoken his mind on this. I would like to hear now from those of you who have actually spent a fair amount of time with some of our guests from the north. Arlyn, why don't you start?"

The old Abbot cleared his throat. "It's all a matter of intentions," he began. "After all I've seen these last two days, I have no doubt that Lord Urthblood could have taken this Abbey by force, or caused us any amount of harm, had he so desired. We could not have stood against that army. Indeed, I cannot conceive of any force that could. He maintains that he is a friend of Redwall, our ally in this coming crisis that he predicts. So, why has he brought such a force to our gates?"

"To tame Mossflower, if it needed taming," Alex said in answer. "He came down from the far Northlands. He had no idea what he would find when he arrived here. He wanted to be ready for anything."

"That's a logical conclusion," Vanessa nodded. "But I believe our retired Abbot had the floor. Arlyn, do you agree with Alexander?"

"The question we must decide is whether we can trust Urthblood," said Arlyn. "In some things, he has not been entirely forthcoming with us. But he told us of his vermin before they arrived here, and he has hidden nothing from us since their arrival. Indeed, he could not have put them more openly on display if he'd tried. Drilling them nonstop right under our noses, inviting us to get to know their captains ... and there are many woodlanders in that force outside. Let us not forget that. They would not serve with Lord Urthblood if they doubted him in any way."

"So," the Abbess asked her old mentor, "do you deem it safe to let that army into Redwall?"

"I don't know if I can answer that, Vanessa. This is all brand new. We have never seen anything like this before. A Badger Lord who takes vermin into his service, and succeeds in having them march side by side with goodbeasts? The best we can do is judge these warriors - vermin and woodlanders alike - on their own merits, as we have been trying to do these past few days. They have caused us no harm so far, and they have certainly had the opportunity to do so."

"That they have," Alexander agreed. "The Abbot, Monty and I have been out in the thick of them several times, and we wouldn't still be here if they'd had evil intentions. But there's something else, too. All of Lord Urthblood's soldiers are highly skilled fighters - the best I've ever seen. You don't get as good as they are without a lot of training, which means a lot of dedication. That's the difference between those vermin out there and any Redwall has seen in the past: they're every bit as dedicated as Urthblood's mice and otters and hedgehogs and shrews. I don't think any black-hearted villain could show that much dedication, not even as part of an act."

Vanessa considered this, then looked to Maura. "Vermin aren't renowned for their acting abilities, that's true. But foxes are. Maura, you spent most of today with Machus and Lord Urthblood. What are your impressions of that swordsbeast?"

Maura, never one for speaking before a group, hemmed and hawed a bit as she put her thoughts in order.

"Well, I have no love to spare for foxes," she began. "I've tried to speak with Machus alone several times, but I could never really read him. He seemed earnest and polite, although he could have just been playing the part of a noble goodbeast. I'm still not completely over my suspicion of him, but after today, I see Machus differently than before."

"Why is that, Maura?"

"Um, I don't pretend to understand half of what those two talked about this afternoon. After awhile, I pretty much gave up listening, and just watched. But it wasn't Machus I spent most of the time watching; it was Lord Urthblood. You see, foxes are sly and crafty, and their ways are beyond most honest creatures. But a fellow badger, that's another story. And I can tell you this: Urthblood trusts Machus. Completely. That fox might be able to fool anybeast else, but Urthblood has a gift of prophecy. The two of them have obviously worked very closely together for many seasons. Urthblood would not be deceived by any act. So, I think Machus is what he seems."

Vanessa pursed her lips. "So, in other words, Urthblood trusts Machus, Urthblood is incapable of being deceived, therefore Machus is trustworthy."

"Um, I guess that's as good a way to put it as any," Maura nodded.

"I'm reminded of some of the stories Abellon, Tillamook and Mattoon told us last night in the gatehouse," said Vanessa. "About Urthblood's ability to penetrate into other beasts' souls, and see their true character. If he truly does possess such a gift, there is no way Machus could hide from scrutiny like that."

"Or any of the other vermin captains, for that matter," added Arlyn.

"Let us leave the subject of the vermin for now," Vanessa said, turning to her old squirrel friend. "Alex, you have grown very close to Lady Mina ... and not just because that was your assignment. Today we have all seen how she can shoot an arrow. What can you tell us about her that we might not know?"

"Well, aside from the fact that she could probably outshoot me blindfolded," said Alex, "Lady Mina is the most noble creature I have ever known. She has told me much about her home in the Northlands, and it is plain that she loves it and her fellow Gawtrybe as ... well, as deeply as we all love Redwall. She has spun tales of her ancestors and brethren ... they have a very rich history. Her brother Marinus, of whom she speaks with only the highest regard, is the current chieftain of the Gawtrybe. Mina is royalty, but she is also a skilled warrior, as is her brother. For generations the Gawtrybe have helped out other goodbeasts of the Northlands in times of need, ranging far and wide from out of their home forest. They have entered into a compact with Lord Urthblood, to aid him in his purpose however they may. They believe in what he is doing without reservation, and are loyal to the death."

Alex looked imploringly at Vanessa. "I know, the way I've been acting lately, you must be wondering whether my personal feelings for Lady Mina might be clouding my judgement. But I assure you, I've looked into her character as deeply as I could, for the sake of every friend I have here at Redwall. I think I can draw an unbiased conclusion about Mina. She and her folk would never serve an agent of evil, or serve alongside villainous creatures. I doubt Lady Mina would be able to tolerate their presence any more than Lord Urthblood would."

Vanessa nodded slowly. "You sound very certain about this, Alex, and that's good enough for me. Besides," she added with a wink, "any squirrel Lady who could so capture the fancy of our dear Alexander must be one noble and honorable creature indeed."

Alex blushed a bit and lowered his head, a slightly embarrassed smile on his lips.

The Abbess resumed her debriefing. "Let us now hear from Foremole, who has spent three evenings in deep discussion with Lord Urthblood's own Foremole from the north. Tell us, my friend, what you've learned from your counterpart."

"Burr hurr, we'm become gurt friends, 'ee 'n oi. Feel loike oi've knowed 'im alla moi loife. Uz moles're moighty fond o' 'im. Ee's a gudd moler, yurr hurr."

"Yes, I've noticed that you do seem to be getting along fabuluosly. But what has he told you of his service under Lord Urthblood?"

Foremole spread his digging claws. "Bo hurr, ee's a deddercatered beast, jus' loike oi'm deddercatered t' Redwall Habbey. Ee an' 'is Tunnerl 'n' Trencher Corps works 'ard as anybeast in't armee outsoide, but et's cuz they'm wants to. Lord Hurthblood proizes 'is moles veree hoighly. Baint ne'er goes nowhurrs wi'out 'em. They doant foight much, no zurr, moles baint got much loiken for battles an' suchloike. But they 'elps th' othurr wurriers boi diggin' fortifercasherns an' such. They seen enuff foightin' fer thurr tastes, oi reckerns."

"And what has he had to say about Urthblood himself?" Vanessa probed.

"Oi gathur ee thinks Hurthblood's jus' about as gurt a beast as ever's lived. Oi'd wager ee'd give 'is loife fer that stroipedog, yurr hurr."

"Egads!" Monty declared. "Even this badger's moles are fanatics!"

Foremole bristled a bit at this assessment. "Nay, gudd maister Monty, oi said 'deddercatered,' not 'furnattics,' no zurr."

"Yes," Vanessa said, "let us not be too quick to judge these creatures. Their attitude may seem extreme to us, but consider, how many of us here would willingly put our lives on the line for the sake of Redwall?"

"That's true," Alexander nodded, then threw a glance toward Monty. "And speaking of fanatics, didn't Abbot Arlyn speculate just today that Urthblood's otter regiment alone might have been able to defeat Cluny's horde?"

"Gee, word travels fast at this Abbey," Arlyn said wryly. "But, yes, those otters were quite impressive to watch up close. Even you have to admit, Monty, that Redwall's otters could never match them. They might seem boisterous and good-natured, but they would be death incarnate to face on the field of battle."

"Since the subject has found its way to otters," Vanessa said, "let's hear from you now, Monty. From what I gather, you are nearly as taken with them as Alex is with Lady Mina."

"Well, I'd not go that far, Nessa," Monty crossed his arms. "But ne'er did I meet an otter who wasn't a fine brawny beast, an' these from up north are just th' same in that regard. A proper crew o' stouthearted buckos, who wouldn't have no truck wi' nastybeasts, an' that's fer shore."

"You realize, that's an endorsement not only of Urthblood's otters, but also of all the vermin they serve with?" the Abbess reminded him.

Monty shrugged. "Mebbe so, but it's th' truth as I see it."

"And what about Warnokur? He's been with Urthblood a season, and seen some fighting with him. What impressions have you gotten from him?"

"Now, he an' I might have some sharp diff'rences on how to raise that young scallywag Wink," said Monty, "but Warny's a decent creature on th' whole, in spite o' th' way he treats 'is son. Never figgered that wanderin' rogue fer the enlistment type, but I gotta say, the military life seems t' be agreein' with him. Can't say I ever saw that ol' riverdog happier. S'pose he's finally found what 'ee's always been lookin' fer, an' could never find here at Redwall. Anyway, he's got a mighty high opinion o' Lord Urthblood, an' his troopers ... don't even seem t' mind the vermin much. Says they're okay fellers, once you get used to their crude ways. I've spoken with Wink alone about this, an' he says Warnokur's told him pretty much th' same. If anything's amiss with our visitin' horde, Warny's not clued into it."

Vanessa smoothed the front of her green habit. "So that's it, then. From everything that's been said, we're to trust Urthblood, because if his intentions had been evil, he would have shown it by now. We're to trust Machus and his foxes, because Urthblood trusts Machus. Our otters are fond of Urthblood's otters, our moles are fond of Urthblood's moles, Alex is beyond fondness for Lady Mina ... and we haven't even brought up his mice. Abellon has found a place in our hearts, and I for one have come to regard him as a true friend. So, does anybeast here have anything bad to say about Urthblood's soldiers? Anything at all?"

After several moments of silence, Geoff said, "It's all those vermin, Vanessa. How do we know we can trust them?"

"It's been three days, and they haven't done anything to violate our hospitality. Urthblood vouches for them. Do we continue to withhold fair treatment of them because of their species?"

"They're pretty savage fighters," said Alexander. "I for one would hate to have them inside our walls if they mean harm."

"Their battle skills do not necessarily make them untrustworthy," Arlyn pointed out. "Our otters can look pretty intimidating when they're drilling, and the squirrels of the Mossflower Patrol can be downright fearsome during their archery practices."

"But, there are so many of them," Geoff shook his head in consternation.

"I was as suspicious as anybeast here," said Maura. "But would Lord Urthblood have had his troops display their war skills so openly if he were trying to hide anything? He had to know what effect that sight would have on simple Abbeybeasts. If you ask me, it shows that's he's being open to a fault. He's going to do what he feels he must and make no apologies about it, even if it ruffles our fur and feathers a bit. That's not the way of a dishonest villain."

"Except," Alex countered, "that Machus refuses to show us the extent of his own skill, and won't even give us a reason why."

"He must have a perfectly logical explanation," Maura said. "But I tell you again, that badger trusts that fox, completely and absolutely."

"Lady Mina does too," Alex added, "and that's good enough for me."

"Which still leaves the question before us: Do we let them inside Redwall?" Vanessa ran her gaze around the study. "I think it's all been said, and the time has come for a decision. I realize that, as Abbess, the final decision must be mine and mine alone. But before I commit myself, I would like to take a vote. Shall we allow Lord Urthblood's troops inside our walls?"

Geoff asked, "Couldn't we just let the woodlanders in, the ones we know won't cause us any trouble, and make the vermin and foxes remain outside?"

"Out of the question," Vanessa shook her head. "The hospitality of Redwall must be open to all our guests, or none of them."

"Would they be disarmed at the gate before coming in?" Maura asked. "That might affect how I vote."

"Good point, Marm," said Monty. "An' would they all come floodin' in at once, or in shifts? Goodbeasts or not, I doubt that whole crew'd fit on our grounds at th' same time. Even standin' shoulder t' shoulder, they'd pack our lawns from the orchard to th' main west gate."

"They're right, Vanessa," Arlyn said. "We can't vote until we know exactly what we're voting for. We need a specific proposal: how many at a time to let in, whether to disarm them, and so forth. We might have to vote several times to come up with a plan that's acceptable to a majority of us."

"Oh, dear, this is getting more complicated than I'd wanted," said Vanessa. "Then again, it is not a simple issue. Very well. Let's discuss exactly what would be required before we'd consider letting Urthblood's troop in. We'll start with Maura's point, about whether they should be disarmed ... "

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Five minutes later, the details were all hammered out and the plan was voted on by the leaders of Redwall.

"All those in favor of allowing Urthblood's troops into the Abbey, under the conditions agreed upon, raise your paws."

Five paws went up.

"Opposed?"

Geoff glanced around self-consciously, then put up his paw. "Looks like I'm the only dissenter. Perhaps I should abstain, but I have to vote how I feel. I still don't think it would be a good idea."

"Don't feel chagrined, Geoff," Vanessa told him. "Let's hope the day never comes when anybeast at Redwall is intimidated into keeping its opinion to itself. Being in the minority doesn't mean that an opinion doesn't count for anything."

"I suspect that if Sister Aurelia had been invited into our councils, you might have had another vote to stand with yours, Geoff." Arlyn looked to the Abbess. "I notice you didn't vote either way, Vanessa."

"No, I wanted to see how all of you voted first, and take that into account. Seeing how the vote was nearly unanimous, and given my own feelings on the matter, I hereby agree with the majority. We shall let the Northlanders into Redwall, but only in groups of no more than a hundred at a time, and only in mixed groups of vermin and woodlanders. Each group will be allowed one hour to wash in the pond, stroll the grounds and help themselves to food and drink, after which they must leave to make room for the next group. In this way, all six hundred of Urthblood's soldiers will have a turn inside the Abbey by early afternoon, if we admit the first group right after breakfast.

"Additionally," she went on, "they will have to surrender their arms before they will be admitted through the wallgate. This will be done in the meadow outside the wall, and the weapons will remain there. Now, I realize that even a hundred of these troops carry the equivalent of a small armory, so we'll dispatch as many of our squirrels and otters as we need to handle this task."

Vanessa paused for breath. "Let us hope," she concluded, "that this arrangement works out well enough tomorrow so that we can keep it in place for as many days as Urthblood remains at Redwall. He wants us to trust his troops as decent creatures, and this is the next step toward that. But we will still use caution. Geoff may be the only one of us to vote against this proposal, but I think we all still share a little of his unease. If those Northlanders give us any cause to regret extending them our hospitality, they will be expelled from Redwall, by force if need be, and our gates will remain closed to them. All of them, even Abellon and Saybrook and Machus and Lady Mina."

"Even Urthblood himself?" asked Arlyn.

Vanessa sighed and gave a shrug. "I don't know. We'll just have to wait and see ... " She turned to Redwall's two chief defenders. "Alex, Monty, will you please go inform Lord Urthblood of our decision? It will soon be full dark, and I'm sure he'll want to start getting things organized for the morning. That will be quite some logistical effort, getting those soldiers broken up into smaller, mixed groups."

"Right on it, Nessa," Monty saluted, and led his squirrel friend out of the room.

Geoff shuddered. "I for one will breath a lot easier once Urthblood moves on from Redwall, and takes his vermin and foxes with him."

"I think we all will, Geoff," Vanessa agreed.

00000000000

"TIMBER!"

Alexander's warning cry was audible even up on the walltop. So was the crack of the mighty elm's trunk as the remaining unsawed width gave way and the grand tree toppled away from the Abbey, safe in its spider's web of guide ropes.

Many of the Redwallers had gathered along the ramparts to watch this latest spectacle. Lady Mina had finally convinced Alexander that the tall trees near the Abbey ought to come down, and Alexander had then convinced Vanessa, and the project proceeded quickly from there. It was the afternoon following the decision to grant Urthblood's troops access to Redwall, and the Abbeyfolk had a lot to watch.

Friar Hugh shook his head as the ancient elm came crashing down into the forest below him. "Cutting down trees that've stood nearly as long as this Abbey," he muttered. "That squirrel Lady's got our Alexander wrapped around her pretty paw. No way he'd be doing this if it weren't for her."

"Yes, it is a shame to see them go," agreed Brother Joel, standing alongside the Friar mouse. "But give Alex some credit. He wouldn't have agreed to do this without good reason. And Lord Urthblood did make a pretty persuasive argument for cutting them down." By now, that debate had made its way all throughout Redwall.

"It's giving in, plain and simple," Hugh grumbled, turning to sweep his paw at the Abbey grounds behind them. "It's capitulation, just like that sorry affair down there!"

Joel followed Hugh's gaze. Nearly a hundred of the Northland troops crowded the lawns, washing by the pond or snacking at tables which had been spread with fare for their benefit. This had been going on all morning, as Urthblood's soldiers flowed in and out of the south wallgate in shifts. Over half the army had had their turn inside Redwall, and there had been no unpleasant incidents.

"I think you're being overly dramatic, Hugh," the horticulturalist mouse said to the Friar. "Lord Urthblood's our ally. How can you surrender to an ally?"

"Look there below us, and you'll see how."

"Oh, come now," Joel waved a paw. "They're following all the rules the Abbess set for them, they haven't caused any trouble ... most of them are acting in quite a decent manner. Look, there's young Cyril right now, chatting over by the orchard with that mouse who's chained to that stoat. They seem to be getting along famously ... "

Hugh snorted. "Two beasts chained together! Reminds me of the two seasons I spent as a slave in my youth. I think that about says it all!"

"Yes, well, supposedly it was the mouse's idea, from what I've heard, so it's not like they're slaves. You're fussing about nothing, Hugh. The Abbess weighed her decision very carefully, and she wouldn't have taken this course if she'd felt the Abbey was in any danger."

"Oh, really?" Hugh said sarcastically. "Then why are all of our otters guarding the gates, and why are all of our squirrels patrolling the walltop with bows notched and ready?"

"Urthblood himself has said from the beginning that he wanted to see Redwall's defenses improved. If he had anything sinister in mind, he'd be defeating his own purpose. Nothing can go amiss, as long as we keep our eyes wide open."

"Open eyes are good ... but what if there's more going on here than meets the eye?"

"Such as?"

Friar Hugh shook his head. "I don't know. But something's not right with Urthblood, or his army. I feel it, Sister Aurelia feels it, and so does Brother Geoff. And I'll tell you what bothers me the most."

"What?"

"Where are the hares? A Badger Lord's supposed to have a whole gaggle of 'em. Now, Urthblood's a Badger Lord of Salamandastron ... but not a hare to be seen anywhere in his ranks. What kind of a Badger Lord has an army completely without hares?"

"Well, Lord Urthblood does have a brother," Joel reminded Hugh. "All the hares are at Salamandastron with him, helping to protect the coastlands. Or so I've heard."

"Oh, and I suppose there are no hares in all the Northlands?" Hugh countered. "The whole thing's just wrong." He paced over to a spot on the southeast corner of the walltop, from where he could survey both the soldiers in the meadow and those within the Abbey walls.

"Where, I repeat, are the hares?"


	9. Interlude, with Hares

INTERLUDE, WITH HARES

Far from Redwall Abbey, across the Western Plains and over the mountains beyond, stood the natural fortress of Salamandastron. The flat-topped mountain stronghold stood well apart from the range to its east, dominating the middle coastlands. Rearing up from a region of rolling dunes and scattered swamplands like a fist of rock punched through from deep inside the earth, Salamandastron was as alone in its solitary majesty as were the Badger Lords who had ruled the mountain for more generations than anybeast could remember. Through war and peace, plenty and famine, good times and bad, always there were the Badger Lords of Salamandastron and their fighting hares of the Long Patrol, who could be counted on to protect the western shores from any enemy who would disrupt the peace of the inner lands. Forever vigilant, and forever ready ...

Three hares sat hunkered at the foot of a grassy dune, trying to find shade from the fierce afternoon sun. They weren't having much success.

Melanie, the Patrol leader, took a rather unfeminie swig from her canteen. Her daughters Givadon and Mizagelle followed their superior's example and quenched their own thirsts in similar fashion.

"Whew! It's a right scorcher today, or I ain't a hare!" Melanie recapped her canteen and hung it back on her belt. "An' it don't help that we're too far from the shoreline to get any sea breeze, and too far west of the mountains to be in their shadow. Might's well be movin' on, gels, 'cos we ain't doing any good here, and here ain't doing us any good!"

Mizagelle shaded her eyes with one paw as she gave the sun a quick glance. "Maybe if we move around to the east side of this dune, Mum, it might be cooler there."

Givadon stood and stretched her legs. "Fat chance, Sis. Bally ol' Mr. Sun's almost directly overhead any way you look at it. No shade here or there for another couple hours." She looked toward Melanie. "Mum, this detail's a rotter. Nobeast has ever attacked Salamandastron from the east, over the mountains. No decent path up there, no way t' bring any horde through those peaks. All we're doing out here is practicing getting roasted so we can serve as main course at the next feast."

"Then the next feast must be serving grouse, from the way you're grousing." Melanie athletically flexed her long hindlimbs. "You know the standing orders: cover all approaches to the mountain. An army attacking from north or south could send a flank out this way to open a front on the east side of Salamandastron. Besides, we're not just on the lookout for enemies. Many times in the past we hares of the Long Patrols have rendered aid to some goodbeast or other who's gone and gotten itself stranded in these wastes. Remember, it's our job to help as well as to fight. But most of all, we've got to watch. An' that means less workin' your jawbone and more usin' your eyes an' ears!"

"Yeah, but Givvie's right, Mum," Mizagelle said, sticking up for her sibling. "We been out here three days an' seen nobeast but those blightin' gulls and a nasty toad or three."

"Then we report to Colonel Clewiston and Lord Urthfist that we saw blightin' gulls and a nasty toad or three. You know His Lordship wants to be appraised of the movements of everybeast within a day's march of Salamandastron. Even harmless-seeming pests might be serving as the eyes and ears of our enemies." Melanie lowered her voice. "Both of our enemies." She gave a quick sprint out several yards on the flat stretch alongside the dune, kicking up sand with each powerful push of her feet, then made her way leisurely back to her daughters. "Ahh, that felt good! Can't let a little heat get the best of us, wot? Now come on, m'gels, up an' at 'em! I know a nice little spring half a day's march south of here where we can refill our canteens and grab some fresh tucker right off the bush."

The two young female hares perked up at the mention of fresh fruit. As they geared up for the southward march, Givadon noticed a number of the bothersome gulls swooping down low toward the east side of the dune. The birds were crying loudly in their aggressive fashion, and the hare trio assumed that they were the target of the seagulls' wrath. The gulls had never been friendly with the forces of Salamandastron, for they saw the Badger Lords and the hares of the Long Patrol as rivals for their mastery of the seashore. Melanie's patrol had already been harassed by them more than once on this detail.

"Oooo, those pests!" Givadon loaded her sling with several sharp-edged rocks from her pouch and started climbing the side of the dune. "Lookit how low they're coming! No proper respect for the law, I'd say. Betcha I can scar a few of 'em. Give me just a moment, Mum, an' then we can be on our way."

Melanie readied her own javelin, while Mizagelle notched an arrow to her yew longbow. "Be careful, Givvie. Those blighters know how to swoop 'n' peck. Get down from there in a hurry if they attack in force."

Givadon gained the top of the dune and began twirling her sling, then let it fall to her side, still loaded. The gulls weren't after them at all; they were swooping down toward a lone figure racing in from the east. Givadon made a visor of one paw and squinted to get a better look. "Hare!" she yelled down to her mother and sister below. "There's a hare out there!"

Melanie and Mizagelle were up the dune and at her side in a trice. "Where the fur did he come from?' Melanie asked of nobeast in particular.

"From the east," Mizagelle answered, stating the obvious. "He must've come over the mountains!"

"Don't be daft," Givadon said scornfully. "Only bats can get over those mountains. There are no paths."

"Well, he came from somewhere!" Mizagelle said defensively. "He wasn't anywhere to be seen a few minutes ago when we stopped for our rest and took a quick survey from up here. We would've seen him if he'd been traveling in the open parallel to us. And he's moving due west, straight toward us from the range."

Melanie held up a paw to forestall any further bickering. "At the rate he's moving, he could have come from anywhere. North, south ... or down from the mountains. The immediate question is, does he need our help?"

"The gulls are definitely harrying him," said Givadon, "but he's putting on a smashing show of weaving and ducking them, in spite of his speed. I don't think they've scored a hit on him yet - at least not while I've been watching. Wot'cha say, Mum?"

Melanie ran the cool steel of her javelin thoughtfully across her pursed lips. "Normally, I'd say let's go lend a paw, but that chap's making such tracks, he'll be here any moment. Might's well stand at the ready right where we are, and prepare a proper reception for our visitor and his newfound friends."

"Oh, I think he's seen us!" Mizagelle held up her longbow by one end as high as she could and waved it frantically over her head. "Hey, over here!"

Fortunately - or unfortunately, since Melanie and her girls were never hares to shrink from a good fight - the seagulls broke off their swooping runs at the stranger when they spied the well-armed trio awaiting them at the crest of the dune.

The newcomer skidded to an abrupt halt at the eastern base of the dune, just below the three females. "I say, am I glad to see you!" he said between gasps for breath. "You are hares of the Long Patrols, aren't you?"

"That we are," Melanie answered. "And you would be?"

"Name's Browder, Ma'am. And I'd love to tell you all about myself, but I've got to get to Salamandastron, toot sweet. I've got urgent news for Lord Urthfist. I trust you can take me to him?"

"That we can." Melanie bounded down the east slope of the dune to get a closer look at Browder. He was an unexceptional-looking hare, neither old nor young, dressed more for forest and woodlands than the open expanses of the coastlands. "But first, are you hurt? Do you need food or drink?"

"I can sip while we walk," Browder said, brushing off her concern for his condition. "Please, we must make all haste. I've run all the way from Mossflower, across the plains and over the mountains. There's no time to spare!"

"Over the mountains?" Mizagelle looked at her sister. "See, Givvie, I told you!"

"Oh, hush!"

Melanie's attention remained focused on the strange hare. This Browder must be more than he appeared, if he truly had come over the treacherous mountain range. "Tell us, friend, what is this urgent news, that could make you undertake such a journey?"

Browder accepted the canteen she held out to him, took a quick swallow and returned it. Staring her in the eyes he answered her simply and directly, although it would take some moments for his words to fully register upon the three of them.

"Urthblood has captured Redwall Abbey!"

00000000000

Long ago, when the world was still in its youth, the mountain of Salamandastron had been a great volcano, spewing forth mighty plumes of vapor and ash and sending rivers of molten rock in vast cascades down its flanks. Those magma fires had long since died, leaving the rock to cool into a dense basalt monolith that was impenetrable to all but the hardest digging tools.

It was with such tools that the first Badger Lords had come to Salamandastron and tunneled out interior levels and living spaces, converting the mountain into a fortress from which the coastlands could be defended. Succeeding generations added to the labyrinthine passages, until the entire mountain was honeycombed with chambers, stairs, corridors and concealed entrances, all carved from the living rock itself. But for all the changes that had been wrought upon it through the ages, the true shape of its origins could never be masked. The terraced slopes that supported sparse gardens and groves were still recognizably the slopes of an extinct volcano, and the rimmed flat top stood out plainly as the solidified crater bowl.

Two creatures stood upon the crater rim, gazing out to sea. One was immense, the other lanky and wiry. Despite this contrast in their physiques, anybeast could have told at a glance that they were companions of long standing, merely by the way their comfortable stances complemented each other's.

Lord Urthfist, the current master of Salamandastron, had lately taken to wearing partial armor, even while going about his most routine tasks deep within the mountain stronghold. Always there were the searat pirates to guard against, and they'd been growing bolder in recent seasons. More often than not these days, the sails of one of their slave galleons - and sometimes more than one - were to be seen on the horizon from this vantage atop Salamandastron, tantalizingly close yet impossibly out of reach. Tales came to Urthfist of the horrors these vermin were visiting all up and down the coast, yet they always managed to avoid the heavy paw of justice that Urthfist yearned to administer to them. King Tratton was smart for a rat, the first truly capable leader the searats had had in many generations. He knew the limitations of his badger adversary all too well, and flaunted his unchallenged sea power constantly. He might never be able to confront Urthfist directly, but he could taunt the Badger Lord by keeping a high profile within sight of Salamandastron ... and so he did.

Searats to the west ... and that other enemy, the one Lord Urthfist preferred not to speak of, who might attack at any time, from any direction. This second foe was far more dangerous than any rat, and recent reports indicated that his battle-hardened horde might be preparing to move south and threaten the good creatures of Mossflower country. One of the fastest hares of the Long Patrol had been dispatched as a messenger to Redwall to warn them of this threat, and ought to reach the Abbey any day now, if he hadn't already. Urthfist wanted to be ready for battle himself at a moment's notice, whoever the foe, and had traded his heavy forge smock for the armored raiment of war.

"Yaahs, none of the blighters in sight this day, sah, wot?" Colonel Clewiston, supreme commander of Urthfist's Long Patrol hares, turned to his badger master. Except for a self-mocking medal upon his left breast - presented to him seasons ago as an affectionate joke by his troops - the colonel wore the same drab and simple uniform tunic that all his hares wore. "Know they're still out there, even if we can't see 'em. Still 'n' all, nice to be able to look out at the sea once in awhile an' not see it polluted by searat ships, eh?"

"Your eyesight is better than mine, Colonel," Urthfist said. "If you say you can't see any sails, then I'm confident none are there to be seen. But the day will come ... " The badger left his statement unfinished. "The day will come."

"Aye, an' when it does, sah, I'll be at your side, along with every other hare of the Patrols. One of these days that wretch of a rat will venture too close to Salamandastron for 'is own good. Then we'll trounce 'im an' throw 'im back into the sea where he belongs ... only this time, to be eaten by the fishes."

Urthfist could not share Clewiston's confident enthusiasm. "Do not forget, my old friend, that Tratton has had help in the past. Terramort was not rebuilt by rats' paws alone."

Clewiston pondered this unsettling reminder. "That particular trouble was well to the north last we heard, sah. Don't see how Tratton could link up with 'im. They've parted ways, an' each have their own concerns these days."

"They are both our mortal enemies ... and parted ways have a way of joining together again. Maybe not today, or tomorrow ... but if either one wants to take Salamandastron badly enough, they will not hesitate to form an alliance against us. That is the greatest danger we face. It doesn't mean Tratton won't take it upon himself to test us on his own. He might send an expeditionary force against Salamandastron at any time, if he feels he has grown strong enough, just to gauge our strength. He is a searat, remember, and would not think twice about wasting an entire shipload of his brethren if he thought it would serve his larger plans."

"One shipload of those vermin wouldn't stand a chance against us, sah. We'd dispatch 'em in two shakes."

"Which would tell Tratton exactly what he wants to know ... and how many of your hares would lose their lives in repulsing the assault?"

"Our hares," said Clewiston, reminding Urthfist that the Badger Lord commanded all the Long Patrol, including Clewiston himself. "Maybe one or two, sah, but not if I have anything to say 'bout it. Besides, we're here to fight, sah. Not much use havin' us about if we can't make ourselves useful, wot?"

"Even one or two hares would be too many to lose fighting scum like that." Urthfist ground his teeth. "Too many vermin in the world, that's the problem. You can keep killing them until the sea runs red, and still there will always be more."

"It's not just the vermin, but who's in charge of 'em that's the problem."

Clewiston could tell immediately that this was not the best thing he could have said to improve his master's mood, and the hare self-consciously shifted away from Urthfist's side to look out over the crater rim in other directions. His scanning gaze caught some movement to the east, away from the sea where the Badger Lord's sight still lingered. "Hey, wot's this? Sah! One of the patrols is coming back in, ahead of schedule."

Urthfist tore himself away from the ocean vista to look to the east. "Who is it?"

Clewiston strained his eyes. "Must be Melanie's patrol ... they had the detail out that way."

"They must have something out of the ordinary to report, or else they've run into trouble." Concern edged its way into the badger's voice. "Are all three of them there?"

Clewiston squinted hard. "Uh, no, sah. I mean, yes ... uh, there are four hares in the group. Thought I was seein' things, but there's definitely four."

"Four?" Urthfist stood up on the crater rim as high as he could. "Are you sure they're ours?"

"Three of them are. Melanie's girls, just as I thought. But the fourth one isn't one of ours. Not dressed right." Clewiston taxed his vision to its limit. "Looks like ... woodlander garb, unless I miss my guess."

"Woodlander?" Urthfist followed his hare colonel's gaze, but he could barely tell how many figures were approaching, much less what they were wearing. "What would a woodlander hare be doing out on the coastlands?"

"One way to find out, sah. The gels are bringing him straight here, by the look of it. I highly recommend we go down to greet them out on the slope."

"Of course, Colonel. We must find out about this."

Casting one last glance westward, toward the glinting aqua expanse of the open sea, Urthfist followed Clewiston toward the crater bowl's central stairway that led down into the heart of Salamandastron.

00000000000

If Browder didn't like being the center of attention, then Salamandastron was exactly the wrong place for him to be.

Nearly ninety hares were assembled in the main dining hall of the mountain fortress to hear what their woodland visitor had to say. A few were still out on patrol, but this was nevertheless the fullest assemblage of the Long Patrol in several seasons.

As many as could fit were seated around the long table at the chamber's center. The rest - well over a score of them - stood off to the side along the walls, positioning themselves so they had a clear view of the stranger.

Browder had been given the oversized chair at the head of the table - Lord Urthfist's traditional spot - so that he would be placed at the focus of everybeast's attention. The Badger Lord himself stood to Browder's left and somewhat away from the table, his two seniormost hares Colonel Clewiston and Major Safford at either paw: the perfect arrangement for an interrogation.

A simple supper was laid out upon the table, but nobeast was thinking of food at this gathering. Word of Browder's news had spread through the ranks, and the mood within Salamandastron was dire and anxious. Tension filled the air of the dining hall, and more than one of the Long Patrol hoped Browder could sense what a dangerous mood gripped Lord Urthfist now.

"Tell me what has happened at Redwall," Urthfist demanded of the woodland hare, without preamble or introduction. "And I warn you now, if I suspect you of being false, I will slay you without hesitation."

Browder swallowed nervously. "My Lord, why would I lie about a thing like this? I've come straight from Mossflower as fast as I could to deliver this news to you. Many creatures are depending upon you."

"Depending upon me? To do what?"

Browder seemed confused by this question. "Why ... to help us, of course!"

Urthfist's gaze at the woodlander was as cold as death. "I've heard it said that my brother can tell whether a beast is lying merely by staring into its eyes and listening hard to its voice. I possess no such talent, and must use the judgement of my own experience. I would hate to kill an honest creature. Speak, and speak true!"

"Uh ... it happened three days ago," Browder began, "or maybe it was four. The way I've been traveling, I've lost count of the days. Anyway, Urthblood's horde came sweeping down from the north upon Mossflower, some along the road, some through the woods. The poor folk at Redwall didn't stand a chance!"

"Redwall is well-defended, and has a long history of turning away attackers. How did my brother capture it so easily?"

"I can only tell you what I heard, My Lord. I'm not a Redwaller myself, but some of the Abbeydwellers who escaped told us what happened. Seems Urthblood showed up first, alone, and used his reputation as a Badger Lord of Salamandastron to win his way inside. Those poor Redwall mice and their friends never thought to question his truthfulness. He called a meeting of the Abbey defenders and leaders, saying he had urgent matters to discuss, and then ... then he slew or maimed them before any fighting beast could raise a paw in defense! It must have been horrible! The Abbess, their arms masters, their teachers and scholars ... "

"Their Abbess is dead then?" Urthfist interrupted.

"That's what I heard from the creatures who were inside when it all happened. The council must have been behind closed doors, because Urthblood was able to go and unlock all the Abbey gates before the slaughter was discovered. By the time the others at Redwall could stir themselves against Urthblood, his horde was upon them! Without their leaders they were helpless. A few did manage to escape into Mossflower in the confusion, but all the rest were either killed or taken prisoner."

Urthfist clenched his massive jaws in a controlled fury, his deadly paws balled tightly at his sides. It was several moments before he could speak. "My ... brother ... would indeed use such treachery. It fits with what we know of his past atrocities, up north. But, how could he have moved his horde so far south, so quickly, without word spreading before him? He must have been preparing this for a season or more ... "

"I couldn't say, Lord. I only know he's there now, and the goodbeasts of Mossflower are suffering under his terror. No woodlander can possibly stand against Urthblood. You're our only hope!"

Urthfist stared hard at Browder. "If you are but a simple woodland hare, how did you know to come here, to ask my help?"

"Uh ... a falcon, sir."

"What?"

"A falcon," Browder repeated. "It came to us in the woods, and told us that the true master of Salamandastron still dwelt here by the sea, and that your power alone of all beasts' would be enough to contest your brother's. It was widely traveled and knew of such things, although it refused to help us any more than that ... said this was the business of us groundcrawlers and it was above getting involved in such things. Guess we should feel lucky it didn't try to eat any of us. Anyway, we decided somebeast had better get word to you of what had happened. And since I was the only hare about, the job of runner went to me. We assumed you'd want to know about this, and do something about it. Uh ... were we wrong to assume this, My Lord?"

Urthfist remained silent for a long time, thinking thoughts that could only be guessed at. Finally he asked, "And you came all this way yourself, over the mountains? In three days?"

Browder nodded. "A day and a night to cross the Western Plains, running all the way, then a quick sleep at the foot of the mountains, and then ... well, the falcon had told us about a pass that would take a beast over to the coastlands, but it sure wasn't easy to find. Guess things look different from way up in the sky. But at last I found it and made my way over the peaks as fast as I could without breaking my blinkin' neck. Almost froze to death the one night I had to spend up in those crags. Couldn't sleep, an' too dark to travel on, so I had to walk around in tiny circles and stamp a lot to keep my juices flowing until morning. That was this morning, when I came down and met your patrol, and then, well, you know the rest. So that'd make it three days of traveling, and Urthblood took Redwall the day before I left, so four days altogether."

"And you were the only hare to be found for this assignment? You have no wife or children, no family?"

"I'm something of a free spirit, Lord. Spent my youth criss-crossing all of southern Mossflower before settling down just south of Redwall. That's how I came to be close at paw when this terrible thing happened. I live alone, come an' go as I please. Bachelorhood suits me just fine." Browder glanced around at the faces of all the hares who were gazing at him so raptly. "With all due respect, what has all this to do with anything? I mean, I'll answer anything you want to ask me, but Urthblood is sitting in Redwall right now, and we've got to do something about that!"

"And what would you have me do?" Urthfist demanded angrily. "Assemble all my fighting hares and depart this very day for Redwall, leaving Salamandastron empty to be overrun by Tratton?"

"Tratton? Wot's a Tratton?"

"The King of the searats. A particularly vile and cunning vermin, who would love nothing better than to take this mountain for himself and gain control of the coastlands as well as the open seas. If I journey to Mossflower, there is no guarantee that I could succeed in liberating Redwall. But Salamandastron would certainly be lost. Do you see now how much it is you ask of me? Even if you are being truthful, I must think hard before I can consent to give you my help. If I make the wrong decision, we could lose everything."

Browder rose from his seat and came to stand before Urthfist. Many members of the Long Patrols tensed; it was dangerous to so approach the Badger Lord in his present mood.

But Browder lowered himself onto one knee and bowed his head respectfully toward Urthfist, until his ears flopped forward and nearly brushed the stone floor. "My Lord, I swear to you that I am an honest woodland creature, a humble hare who has come to ask for your help because there was nowhere else to turn. Our need is great. I beseech you, do not reject our request out of paw. I understand now that you must consider other things of which we were unaware before you can make a decision, but ... if you cannot help us, then nobeast can. Please do not turn me away, My Lord. Many creatures have placed all their hope in my mission. If I am to return to Mossflower empty-pawed, at least let me be able to tell the goodbeasts there that you dwelt long and hard on this matter before I was dismissed. Please ... that is all I ask."

Nearly every hare present was moved by Browder's impassioned plea. Even Colonel Clewiston had all he could do to keep from speaking out on the woodlander's behalf. But in the end this must be Urthfist's decision and his alone. If the badger wanted or required the counsel of his hare commanders, he would ask for it.

Urthfist reached out a paw as if to touch Browder on his bowed head, then withdrew it. His face was unreadable. "Get up," he said hollowly. "I demand supplication from nobeast. It is demeaning ... the kind of thing my brother would insist upon."

Browder stood as instructed, meeting Urthfist's gaze with a look of absolute earnesty but saying nothing.

Urthfist stepped back from between Clewiston and Safford, turning toward the opposite end of the dining hall. "Colonel, Major, there is sufficient food laid out for all. See that every hare has its fill ... especially our guest here."

"Uh, won't you be eating with us, sah?" Clewiston asked.

Urthfist shook his head. "No. I am going up to my private chambers. I need to be alone this night."

00000000000

Late into that night, Urthfist stood in the throne room of Salamandastron, staring at a prophecy that had been carved into the rock walls twenty seasons before.

Although it was called the throne room, this chamber was actually something much more. It did indeed house a giant stone seat at its far end, simple in design and yet worthy of any Badger Lord who would care to sit upon it. It was there that the remains of Lord Brocktree, one of the greatest of the early Lords of the mountain, had rested for generations. Brocktree's skeleton had long ago been cleared away, honorably interred with his illustrious successors. But the throne stayed empty, and this chamber was usually sealed by an immense boulder rolled across its threshold that only Urthfist was strong enough to shift. The hares of the Long Patrol rarely ventured even to the entrance, and never set foot inside.

That was because this was a place meant for Badger Lords alone. More important than any throne were the carvings upon the walls, testaments and prophecies that had carried on unbroken through the long history of Slalamandastron. The living history of this mountain - all its rulers, every battle, every foe and every triumph - was to be found here, a chronicle every bit as complete as the tapestry of Redwall. The writing was all Badgerscript, unreadable by any other creature, but there were pictures as well, where words alone would have taken up too much wallspace. This was the heart of Salalmandastron, past, present ... and future.

The last entry in this continuing saga had been inscribed there twenty seasons earlier, by Urthfist's brother Urthblood. It was a prophecy of things yet to come, and the main reason Urthfist considered his older brother to be his enemy.

The Badger Lord ran his clawtips lightly over the carved verse, dropping down to the last lines as he so often did. Was it possible that a single creature could unleash so much destruction upon the lands?

And was he wrong to have kept this shameful secret to himself all these years, hoping that the prophecy might prove false and his brother might never return from the Northlands? Should he have warned the goodbeasts of Mossflower about Urthblood before now, so that they would not have succumbed so easily to his treachery? Redwall, lost! This was the most terrible thing that could have happened ... and he might have been able to prevent it, if only he had not waited so long to send his message of warning to the leaders of Redwall and made them his allies. He was partly to blame for this calamity.

Urthfist became aware of a presence at the mouth of the chamber. Turning, he saw Colonel Clewiston standing expectantly at half-attention. "It wasn't your fault, sah," the hare said, as if reading his master's mind.

"I knew." Urthfist's voice was dull and tired. "I knew that my brother might be getting ready to move south, after I heard Traveller's latest reports. And still I delayed in alerting Redwall, ashamed to admit that my own flesh and blood could be the kind of monster that he is. If I'd dispatched Hanchett even a week earlier, it might have made the difference. Now, when he arrives at Redwall, he'll find it captured by Urthblood, its leaders slain ... He'll likely be slain himself. A noble hare, lost on a fool's errand."

"Don't sell Hanchett short, sah. He's not only our fastest runner - except maybe for Traveller himself - but he's got a good head on 'is shoulders. Quick thinker, that one. I bet he gives 'em some right old grief, then heads straight back here to report what he's found."

Urthfist remained morose. "He probably won't even reach Redwall for several more days. He wasn't about to attempt the mountain passes, as our visitor claims to have done. Taking the long way around to the south of the range is a journey of many days, even for a hare." The badger clenched his paws in frustration. "If only there were some way to get word to Hanchett and recall him before he reveals himself to my brother."

"And what good would that do, sah?" Clewiston asked. "Unless I'm much mistaken, we all may soon be on our way to Redwall." He cocked his head. "Are we going to go help them, sah?"

Urthfist gave his colonel an imploring look. "What do you make of this Browder? You're a hare - I was hoping you could read him better than I. Do you think he's being truthful?"

"If he's lyin', sah, I've never seen a beast wot could lie so well. In a way I hope he is, because that would mean Redwall is still safe."

"Or that Redwall has indeed fallen, and my brother wants to make sure I know it."

"There is that possibility, sah."

"Either way, then, Browder could be working for my brother, trying to draw me out of Salamandastron." Urthfist shook his head slowly. "I could tell that you and the others were moved by his plea, Colonel. I nearly was myself. But with Tratton threatening us the way he is these days, I cannot leave Salamandastron short-pawed. The risk is too great. As much as I would like to aid the creatures of Mossflower if they are in need, I cannot make such a decision based on the story of one hare we do not know. If there were some way to verify Browder's story, then things might be different. But as it is now ... "

"So we're stayin' put?"

"At least until tomorrow, until the rest of the patrols report back," Urthfist said. "After that ... I just don't know. We haven't heard from Traveller in over a season. He probably would know if my brother were moving his horde south."

"If he's still alive," Clewiston added.

"You fear the worst for our old friend, Colonel?"

"Lemme put it this way, sah. Either Browder's tellin' the truth, in which case Urthblood's sittin' in Redwall right now, or else he's lyin', which he'd only be doing if Urthblood's tryin' to lure you out of Salalmandastron ... and there'd be no point to that unless Urthblood were somewhere nearby, where he could know when you've left the mountain so he could move in himself. Either way, he's come south, and faster than we anticipated. If Traveller could've let us know, he would've."

"Provided he knew of the movement," said Urthfist.

"Traveller? No way he could've missed a mobilization this big. Not that hare."

"He could have been fed false information. Traveller has been a good spy for us for twenty seasons. It would be naive of us to suppose my brother doesn't have spies of his own. Misinformation can be as effective as murder in a case like this. Just look at Browder: here we are, you and I, at an hour when we should both be fast asleep, wondering instead whether Browder is an agent or an honest beast. My brother could not have sent a more effective weapon against us ... and Browder may not even be his agent."

"Well, you're right about one thing, sah. We should both be asleep. Does a beast good, keeps the mind sharp an' alert. I'm gonna tuck in myself, an' I really recommend you do so too, sah."

"I suppose you're right, Colonel. Nothing to be done until tomorrow, and perhaps not then either, so no point in straining myself to stay awake ... although I doubt sleep will come easily to me tonight." Urthfist tore himself away from the wall carvings and took up the small lantern which had provided his only light in the somber stone chamber. Clweiston held it while Urthfist heaved the huge boulder back into place over the entrance. The badger was panting by the time he finished this task. "You do have Browder under guard, don't you?"

"Discreetly," answered Clewiston. "But don't worry; if he sets one paw outside his room, we'll know it. No danger of 'im wandering the corridors during the night, causing mischief if that's his intent."

"I've trained you well, old friend. You could probably run Salamandastron quite well yourself without me."

"Hope it never comes to that, sah." Leading the way with the lantern, Clewiston went with Urthfist down the corridor toward the sleeping chambers. "Y'know, sah, this Browder's got me in a real fix, personally."

"Oh?"

"I mean, I hope he's not tellin' the truth about Redwall, an' that all those fine creatures turn out to be okay when Hanchett gets there. On the other paw, I can't abide the thought of a hare bein' dishonest, or working for a blighter like Urthblood. Just not proper hare behavior, wot?"

00000000000

By the next evening all of the remaining patrols had returned to Salamandastron, bringing the mountain fortress up to its full complement of one hundred fighting hares. Rather than sending new teams out immediately to take their places as was customary (for Urthfist seldom dared to leave the near coast unpatrolled), the Badger Lord convened an extraordinary council of his five senior officers to discuss what their next move should be. Much to her surprise, Melanie was told to attend as well. While she was in charge of her own Patrol, which consisted of herself and her two daughters, her own modest rank was far below that of the other hares attending this session.

There was a special chamber deep in the lowest levels of the mountain that Urthfist had designed as a strategy room where he could conduct war councils. The oval table of polished granite could seat him and as many as twelve hares, although only half that number occupied it now. A detailed map of the coastlands, carved into a separate stone slab and overlaid by a thick sheet of bevelled glass, took up most of the tabletop and could be rotated on its recessed turntable to face anybeast seated at a council. Mirror-backed lanterns directed their beams from the ceiling down onto the table, creating a majestic effect that never failed to impress anew even the most seasoned and jaded hares who entered the chamber.

Urthfist ran his gaze around the circle of faces: Colonel Clewiston, Major Safford, Captains Taywood, Longmeadow and Polifly, and Patrol Leader Melanie. Six good hares, every one a veteran of countless coastal runs. Normally Urthfist would start such a council by asking their advice. But he had thought long and hard over the dilemma that faced them, and had settled upon the necessary course of action. This meeting was for him to give orders, not seek advice.

"We have been told by a stranger that Redwall has fallen to my brother," he began. "This is the story of one hare none of us knows, unverified and unsupported by any other creature. He asks that we abandon Salamandastron in order to aid the woodlanders of Mossflower. This I will not do. Not yet, not until I know more than I do now."

Urthfist glanced toward his supreme commander. "The Colonel and I were speaking well into the night. It is obvious that my brother has come south at last, as we all knew he someday must, whether Browder speaks true or false. The question facing us is simple: does Urthblood now sit in Redwall, as this stranger claims, or does he lurk somewhere near Salalmandastron, waiting to see whether his spy Browder can lure us out with a false report of slaughter in Mossflower? I mean to find out, if I can."

The badger's gaze fell to the map of stone at the center of the table. "If Browder is a spy, my brother cannot be more than a day's march to the north or south of us. Nothing else would make sense, if he means to capture Salamandastron for himself. Very well ... if he and his horde are out there, we will find them. An army is not easily hidden."

Urthfist raised his eyes. "You hares can travel faster and farther than any creature my brother commands, and you can hide yourselves from all but the most skilled eyes, even on the barren coastlands. The time has come to put these abilities to their supreme test. We shall use double Patrols, six instead of three, and they will be organized for speed and stealth. I want to know about every creature within two day's forced march of this spot, and I want these reports back by tomorrow evening at the latest. Doubling the size of the patrols will help ensure that word gets back from any group that might encounter trouble. If we discover that my brother is lying in wait for us, he will have a long wait indeed, for I will not walk into his trap. We will stay here inside Salamandastron and fortify our positions. And if he is fool enough to attack, he will find no entrance open to him even if he has a thousand creatures battering themselves against our rock stronghold."

"Double Patrols, eh?" Clewiston mused. "Most unconventional, sah. How many d'you want?"

"Five should do it." Urthfist traced his claw over the glass-topped stone map. "Three to cover the north approaches, which are the most likely avenues of attack, and two for the south, where the curve of the mountains and coast reduces the territory we have to cover. Pick the fastest, strongest and most experienced hares for this mission ... but none above the rank of lieutenant. The five of you must remain here to coordinate defenses in case we are attacked. I cannot afford to risk any of you."

Urthfist had organized the hundred hares of the Long Patrols into five platoons of twenty each. Colonel Clewiston, in addition to being the ranking commander of all the Patrols, also headed a platoon of his own. Likewise, Major Safford and each of the three captains were also platoon heads. The five lieutenants served directly under these five platoon leaders, helping to coordinate larger operations in the field. This organization gave the hares within each platoon a closeness that was like family.

"Sah, I take it you mean we should each select a double Patrol of our own - one from each platoon, wot?"

"Correct, Colonel ... although if any of you can think of a better way to set up this assignment, I'll leave it to you to work out the details between yourselves. But I want the Patrols ready to leave by sunrise, if not sooner."

"Yes, sah. If there's nothing else, we'll go get right on this."

"One moment." Urthfist turned to Melanie. The female hare had been wondering more and more as the council proceeded just why she had been ordered to attend this meeting. She was about to find out.

"Melanie, it was you and your girls who first encountered Browder and brought him here. You know the lands east of Salamandastron as well as anybeast. I have a special assignment for your Patrol."

"Yes, My Lord?"

"Browder claims to have come over the mountains. This gives us another way to check his veracity. Tomorrow you will return with him to the range. If he found his way through those passes to get here, he should be able to show you how he came. You and your daughters are to climb with him as high into the mountains as you can in one day, provided he can even show you this path of his. There are two reasons I want this done."

"To check his story," Melanie ventured, "and ... ?"

"If he turns out to be honest and I do eventually decide to go to Redwall, I will want to take the quickest route possible. Assume there is a trail through the mountains, one that a lone hare can traverse. Would it be safe for me to attempt to travel? For that matter, could an entire column of hares pass safely along this route? These are things I must know, and I trust your judgement in this matter."

"I understand, Lord Urthfist."

"I want your daughters along in case Browder should prove treacherous. He does not seem much of a fighter, and would be no match for a full Patrol. That should ensure your safety. Just in case war with my brother is looming on the horizon, I do not want to lose a single hare if I can help it."

The Badger Lord stood, signaling the end of the council. The hare officers were so quick to follow that an outsider looking on would have sworn they all rose with Urthfist. Only Melanie was a heartbeat behind, still overwhelmed by these events that had caught her up.

"We all have our work to do, then. I'm afraid there won't be much sleep for any of us this night ... except for you, Melanie. You and your daughters must be well-rested for your climb tomorrow. I want you to get a full night's sleep. And that's an order!"

"Um ... yes, sir!"

00000000000

The five double Patrols were off and running by the time the first rosy tinge of a clear summer morning had begun to light the eastern horizon. Urthfist had wanted to keep all knowledge of the special Patrols from their visitor; he and Clewiston made sure that all preparations were carried out between the time Browder went to bed and the time he got up the next morning. The visitor's room was an interior chamber with no windows, and the discreet watch that Clewiston had placed on Browder saw to it that the woodland hare did not leave his room that night. If Browder was a spy, they were taking no chances.

They need not have worried overmuch; for the second straight day, Browder slept until well past sunrise, and might not have stirred himself until noon if it hadn't been for the wake-up knock at his door. If the hare were an enemy agent, he was surely the laziest spy that any of the Long Patrol had ever seen.

When Browder answered the knock, he was unclothed, sleepy-eyed and fur-dishelveled, obviously having just crawled out of bed. "Oh ... Melanie, isn't it? G'morning." He yawned, rubbing paws into his sleep-rimmed eyes. "Time t'rise 'n' shine, I guess. Wot time is it, anyways?"

"Time for breakfast," Melanie answered, "and it's all laid out in the dining hall f'you. Most of us got an early start this morning, so it'll just be you, me 'n' my gels chowin' down. Hope you feel like a good run today, Browder, 'cos Lord Urthfist has ordered us on a little excursion."

"Oh?" This seemed to wake Browder up in a hurry. "Wot, some military mission? Sorry, I'm no fighter, so if it's anything like that ... "

"Not at all," Melanie assured him. "In fact, this'll be something we already know you're good at. A little runnin', a little climbin' ... and since you've 'ad a couple o' days to get good an' rested after your journey here, it should be a piece o' cake. Speakin' of which, there's hotcakes waitin' for us." Melanie took a deep sniff. "Mmm ... well, don't just stand there, chap! Get some clothes on and shake a paw! We don't have all day!"

When it became apparent that Melanie wasn't going anywhere until he was ready to accompany her, Browder splashed some water onto his face, slicked his fur down as neatly as he could, and pulled on his jerkin and travel belts. Then, together, they went down to the dining hall.

Browder was slightly amazed by the sight of the enormous chamber being nearly empty; every other time he'd been here for a meal it had been packed with hares. Now it was just him, Melanie, Mizagelle and Givadon. The two younger hares greeted him with a bright and cheerful chorus of "Good Morning!" and then all three females tucked into their hotcakes like a four-season famine was coming their way. Filled with uncertainty as to what was wanted of him after he finished eating, Browder approached his plate with a good deal more hesitancy.

"Eat up, old timer," Mizagelle chirped upon seeing how their guest was picking at his breakfast. "You'll need all the energy you can scoff for our run today."

This hardly raised Browder's spirits, nor did the rather rough texture of the pancakes, typical of the spartan fare at Salamandastron. He drowned his helping in as much sweet berry syrup as he could without seeming gluttonous, and washed it down with a flagon of cool spring water.

Four pouches of dried food and four canteens were arrayed at the far end of the table. When breakfast was finished, Melanie thrust a set of these provisions at Browder, who eyed them quizzically. "Wot're these for?"

"We won't be back 'til nightfall," Melanie explained. "This is our lunch, and maybe dinner too."

"Ah ha." Browder attached them to his belt. "Now will one of you please tell me where we're goin', an' wot we're up to?"

Melanie hesitated a moment. Should she wait to tell Browder their destination until they were well underway, so that he'd have less time to raise objections or fabricate an excuse for bowing out of this scouting mission? But she decided to trust the woodland hare ... to a point.

"We're going back to the pass in the mountains where you came through," she said. "Just to have a look around."

Browder's expression was blank. "A look around? For wot?"

"Lord Urthfist wants to know whether the pass would be suitable for him and a large detachment of the Patrols to travel ... in case he wants to use that as a route to Redwall." There - just enough of the truth to satisfy his curiosity.

"Oh, is that all?" Browder laughed. "Why, we don't have to go all the way back there. I can tell you myself. That pass is no good for a badger or a column of troops. Believe me, I've been over it, an' I know. I'm glad you told me this now ... saves us havin' to make that long trip." He started to remove the pouch and canteen from his belt.

"Not so fast," Melanie said, an edge of warning in her voice. "I'm a better judge than you as to what His Lordship is capable of doing. He wants - he's ordered - that you show me this pass and let me see it for myself."

"Well, where is Lord Urthfist? I'll just have a word with him, explain to him what a waste of time this would be. I can tell him everything he needs to know about the mountain pass, and he can cancel this useless excursion."

"You don't understand, Browder: Lord Urthfist has ordered us to escort you to the mountains for you to show us where you came over. We do not disobey his orders."

"But ... " Browder glanced over his shoulder, realizing that the two younger hares had edged around behind him and had their paws on their weapons. Their friendliness had been replaced by the intent gazes of battle-readiness.

He looked back at Melanie. "You don't believe me!" he cried, incredulous. "You don't believe that I came over the mountains!"

"I didn't say that."

"You didn't jolly well have to!" Browder's indignation was full-blown now, without being threatening. "The greatest thing I ever did in my life, comin' over that mountain!" The woodlander gestured extravagantly for them to proceed. "Lead the way, ma'am ... we're goin' to that mountain pass, an' I'll climb it again if that's what it takes to prove to you that I'm no liar!"

Melanie breathed a sigh of relief, and her daughters also relaxed, shifting their paws away from their weapons. Browder's huffy manner suggested nothing of danger or treachery. But they did not lower their guard altogether; Browder might very well be acting. If that was the case, then they would just act right along with him, and let the events of this day show whether he was being genuine in his words and actions.

Pasting a smile upon her face, Melanie turned and headed for the passage that would take them out onto Salamandastron's lower slopes. "Come along, gels! This gentlehare must be in a hurry to prove his point. If we travel at a decent jog we should reach the mountains in an hour or so. Then, after a quick rest, we'll see if you lazyshanks can climb rocks as well as our guest here."

Browder needed no prodding, seemingly as eager to leave as any of them. Givadon and Mizagelle brought up the rear, trading comments on their mother's name-calling.

"Lazyshanks, huh? I'll show Mum, soon as we get to that mountain. I'll eat up that trail like it was all downhill."

"Only thing you'll be eating, Sis, is my dust, since I'm gonna be first up that pass."

"Oh, yeah? Bet you my next kitchen duty that I reach the top before you do."

"You're on. Hope you like dishpan paws!"

00000000000

"Patrol comin' in, sah!"

Urthfist turned. "Already? It's barely past midday. I wonder what this can bode."

"We'll find out pretty soon, sah. They're makin' tracks, an' that's no understatement."

Colonel Clewiston and the Badger Lord stood once more high upon the crater rim atop Salamandastron, surveying the expanses of land and sea around the mountain. They hadn't really expected to see anything of note for quite some time, since Urthfist had given the double Patrols until sundown to fully scope out their assigned territories to the north and south, and most likely it would take Melanie's Patrol at least that long to complete the inspection of the mountain pass with Browder. But the badger had not been able to sit still within the fastness of his mountain stronghold, waiting for news to reach him, and had at last ambled up to the lookout plateau, Clewiston at his heel. He could at least enjoy some sunshine and fresh air while he surveyed his domain.

Now he moved to his chief hare's side, gazing to the north. As always, Clewiston's keen eyesight had caught the movement long before Urthfist would have. "Tell me what you see, Colonel."

"Looks like Larrity's group, from Captain Taywood's platoon. I ... don't see any signs of pursuit, but they're movin' as if the devil 'imself was on their bobtails."

"Perhaps they have something vital to report," Urthfist ventured. "Are they all there? Do any of them seem injured?"

"I think ... " Clewiston leaned out over the crater rim until Urthfist was afraid his senior hare might topple over the edge and plummet down the mountainside. "There's an extra hare with them, sah."

Again? First Browder, and now this? Was it going to become standard for Patrols to return with an extra hare? Urthfist's surprise gave way to the realization of a hope, and his heart beat faint and fast in his breast.

"It's ... it's Traveller, sah! Traveller's with 'em!"

Urthfist clamped an anxious claw around Clewiston's shoulder. "Are you sure, Colonel?"

"Sure as I'm seein' it, sah!" Clewiston's face was split by a grin so broad it threatened to make the top of his head fall off. He almost laughed as he spoke, a rare departure from his usual decorum. "It's Traveller, all right!"

"Colonel, come with me. I want to hear what he has to say, the moment he arrives."

"You an' every hare in the Patrols, sah." Clewiston hopped down from the rim wall and fell into step behind Urthfist, who was already making for the central stairs. "Looks like they'll come in by the northeast entrance. We can receive them there, or go out to meet them on the slope."

"On the slope," Urthfist decided. "I don't want to wait even a moment longer than necessary to hear his report."

"Yassah." They hastened down through the winding stairways of Salamandastron, attracting the attention of every hare that they passed on their way, many of whom dropped what they were doing and fell into step behind them, thinking the mountain might be under attack. By the time they exited out onto the lower northern slope, nearly half the Long Patrol was with them.

A mighty cheer arose from the gathering on the slope when the identity of the new arrival became clear. Despite having spent most of his adult life away from Salamandastron, Traveller was one of the most respected and beloved hares among the Patrols, truly a living legend. He wasn't even officially included among the hundred of the Long Patrols, long ago having been promoted to the special rank of Field Marshal (the only hare ever to carry the title) and given symbolic command of his own platoon, which consisted solely of himself. In real terms his rank was equal to Clewiston's, and Traveller took his orders directly from Urthfist and no other.

The six hares of Lieutenant Larrity's oversized Patrol came to a halt a dozen paces from their awaiting Lord, allowing their newfound comrade to approach Urthfist alone; this was Traveller's moment. The returned hero, gray in the fur but still quick and limber in his movements, came forward and snapped off a smart salute to his badger master, as if his appearance was a routine occurance. "Field Marshal Traveller reporting, M'Lord!"

Urthfist fought to reign in his emotions, seriously afraid that his voice might break when he spoke. "Traveller, old friend, never in twenty seasons of your comings and goings have I been as overjoyed to see you as I am this day. I had feared the worst for you."

"I'm afraid you'll be less than overjoyed by what I have to tell you, sir. The news isn't good."

"I believe I've already heard whatever it is you might have to tell me. I know that my brother has come south, but I do not know for sure where he is now. More than anything else, what I need from you is confirmation. Has Redwall Abbey truly fallen to my brother?"

A look of shock came to Traveller's grizzled features. "Wot ... Redwall, fallen to Urthblood?"

"You have not heard this?"

"No. But it's quite possible, given what I do know."

Urthfist forced himself to remain patient. "Tell me your news, then, and let us see what to make of it."

Traveller began his tale. "As you know, when I was last here a season ago, I told you I saw signs that Urthblood might be getting ready to expand southward with his conquests, perhaps even across the wastelands and all the way to north Mossflower. But I was thinking it'd be something gradual, over the course of a season or two. Then, a few weeks ago, it became clear he was making his horde ready for a mass mobilization. In three days, he'd crossed nearly all the wastes and was less than half a day's march from the northern fringes of Mossflower. I kept them under surveillance as best I could. Kinda hard to lose sight of an entire army in a barren place like that, without much in the way of trees or rises. On the other paw, that made it hard for me to find enough cover to keep myself unobtrusive while I was following them. Turns out I needn't really have bothered, 'cos the blighters must've known I was shadowing them all along."

"Oh? What makes you say that?"

"Happened on the fourth day of their march ... or rather the third night, which was the tipoff. Up 'til then they'd only been marching during the day, an' sleeping at night. I confess, I've only myself to blame. Keeping on their heels at that pace, along with the extra effort of tryin' to keep myself hid, got me kinda tuckered out, an' I thought I could rest easy until morning. But when I woke up, they'd moved on, fast, under cover of darkness. By the time I caught on to what was up, they were all the way to north Mossflower. Or at least that was where their tracks led, 'cos there was no sign of the horde itself. The tracks veered off to the west at that point, an' since it was still far 'nuff north to be above the western mountains, it looked for sure like they were makin' straight for Salamandastron. But when I caught up with them, turned out it was a small diversionary detachment, an' the main force had kept south after all, right into Mossflower. They covered their tracks well enough to fool me, which meant they knew there'd be somebeast to fool comin' up behind 'em. Anyway, the diversionary force turned on me, driving me back toward the main horde. By this time northern Mossflower was crawling thick with the rotters, an' they knew enough about my technique to prevent me goin' to ground. They had more'n one chance to pin my hide to their lances, so I can only guess they were more interested in driving me away than in killing me. One thing for sure, I couldn't keep up my surveillance under those conditions - they wouldn't let me. So I broke through their line first chance I had an' headed west. I waited a day and night at the northern foot of the western mountain range to make sure they weren't gonna try an' come through to Salamandastron after all. But it was Mossflower they seemed to be after, so I got here as fast as I could to let you know what had happened."

"The report we have from Redwall," said Urthfist, "was that my brother showed up there alone and tricked his way in, ahead of the main horde. Do you know anything at all of this?"

Traveller looked thoughtful. "Y'know, the last few days that I could make any sort of reliable observations, His Bloodiness did seem to have vanished ... at least I didn't see hide nor claw of 'im. I'd say that's as good an explanation as any for where he went to."

"But you don't know for certain that he captured Redwall?"

"I'll put it this way, sir. From where they were when I broke off my surveillance, that horde could've got to Redwall in less than a day. An' since they didn't seem to be followin' me out to the coastlands, that's probably where they were headed."

Clewiston looked over at Urthfist. "That story of Browder's is startin' to look pretty clean, sah. No vermin on the coast, an' Urthblood goin' ahead of his horde south into Mossflower."

Traveller cocked his head. "Browder?"

"A woodland hare," Urthfist explained. "He brought us the news of my brother's capture of Redwall."

"The bloke must've run pretty fast, to've gotten here from Mossflower so quickly," Traveller observed.

"He claims to have come over the mountains," Clewiston wryly informed the other hare.

Traveller's eyebrows shot up. "Over the mountains, y'say? Flop my ears, that's a trick I've never even tried myself. I've got to meet this super trooper."

"Oh, I'm sure you will," said Urthfist. "Melanie's Patrol is out with him now - I wanted to verify his story about a pass through the mountains, and see if it might be something we could use for ourselves. They should be back this evening, if all goes well. In the meantime, my oldest friend, go on inside and rest after your long journeying. If you wish anything to eat, the best of what we have in our larders is yours for the asking ... although even our best is none too lavish, I'm afraid."

"After the hardtack rations that got me through a lot of this last outing, anything fresh from Salamandastron's larders will taste like ambrosia to me, My Lord." Traveller saluted again, just as smartly and perfectly as before, and took his leave of Lord Urthfist. It never occured to him to ask his master what was to be done next about the situation; he'd made his report, and it was up to the Badger Lord to make the decisions based upon the information Traveller had brought him. When he was needed again, Urthfist would let him know.

"Colonel, stay a moment." Clewiston lingered on the slope by Urthfist's side as all the other hares filed into the mountain after Traveller and Larrity's Patrol.

"Yes, sah?"

"See to it that Traveller is well attended, and don't let the others pester him too much. I'm sure they're all dying to hear everything about his latest mission, but he'll need his rest as well. His bedchamber has been kept up for him, and I'm sure he'll want to make use of it before long."

"I'll see to it, sah."

"I'm going to stay out here for awhile ... perhaps wait for the other Patrols to report back. From what Traveller says, I'm sure they'll all return by sundown, with no word of any enemy in sight. Please arrange to have some supper brought down to me, if I'm not back inside by evening."

"As you wish. Sah ... are we going to Redwall?"

"It's beginning to look that way, Colonel. After all the Patrols are back, and after I've heard from Melanie ... then I will have to make the most difficult decision of my life."

Clewiston turned to go inside, then paused. "Sah ... why didn't they kill Traveller when they had the chance? By all logic he should be dead right now. And we'd be in the dark about where your brother is."

"Exactly, Colonel. It is as I have said before: it may be that my brother has indeed captured Redwall, and wants to make sure I know it."

00000000000

Sunset that evening was as splendid as any ever seen on the western shore. The crimson globe of the sun turned the sea to a sheet of rippling liquid fire, a countless myriad of molton iron droplets dancing upon the ocean's surface. The ruddy hues grew deeper and then faded altogether as the twilight-reddened orb finally disappeared below the far curve of the watery horizon.

Urthfist saw none of it. Stationed by the eastern entrance, the vast bulk of Salamandastron reared up behind him, cutting off his view of the sea. His thoughts dwelt far from things of beauty, and he was in no mood to appreciate the fiery spectacle nature had arranged. As the long afterglow of a summer's evening settled in, transforming the coastlands into a region of deepening gray shadows, Urthfist kept his attention focused on the mountain range to the east.

Two hours after supper, Colonel Clewiston came down to stand with his master for awhile. The hare brought another covered dish of food with him, in case their vigil should last well into the night, for Urthfist gave no sign that he'd be budging from his spot anytime soon. The Badger Lord greeted his commander with a preoccupied grunt, and did not acknowledge the food at all.

"Nice night for a breather out of doors, wot?" Clewiston set his plate aside with the empty dishes of Urthfist's earlier meal.

"Peaceful," Urthfist said. "One of the quietest and most peaceful nights I can ever remember. Almost as if the very land itself knows something terrible is on its way, and is holding its breath in dread and anticipation."

Clewiston refrained from making a glib comment. When Urthfist began to wax poetical, that was a sure sign that the situation was dire indeed.

The hare officer settled back onto his haunches. "With your permission, sah ... Been a long day, standing watch an' runnin' around debriefing all the returning Patrols, an' gettin' good ol' Traveller settled in. By the way, I finally got that speedster to bed 'bout an hour ago ... though to tell the truth, I think he was so happy bein' back with his own kind, he could've stayed up the whole night through, spinning yarns to the others. But he's no fool, an' knows he's got to keep well rested for the rough times that may be ahead. Right proper influence to have around for the younger chaps."

"He is that." Urthfist waved a claw. "You don't have to stay out here with me, Colonel ... but if you insist, you may as well make yourself comfortable."

"Thank you, sah. The vittles can keep for later, n'case some pangs start plucking at the old stomach bag."

They stood and sat for a long time in silence after that, as the waning day gave way to full night around them and the three-quarter moon rose to cast its wan illumination over the dunes and swamps to the east. It wasn't necessary to speak; both knew what they were waiting for.

At last it came, the ghost of movement. Shadows against the brighter landscape, bobbing and weaving slightly as they drew nearer Salamandastron. After some minutes the phantoms resolved into four distinct hare-shapes, making straight for the eastern slope. Urthfist leaned forward in anticipation, and Clewiston stood to greet the newcomers.

Melanie skidded to a halt, panting hard, surprised to see Urthfist and Clewiston waiting for them at this place. She tried to mask her exhaustion as she stiffened and saluted. "My Lord ... Patrol reporting back, sir!"

"Did it go well?" Urthfist asked anxiously.

Melanie wasn't sure how to answer. "There were no problems, sir." Her two daughters came up behind her. Givadon and Mizagelle stifled their heavy breathing and came to attention as best they could; Browder didn't even try, and seemed on the verge of passing out from his exertions.

Urthfist nodded. "I understand. Colonel, escort the others inside. I'll hear Melanie's report right here."

"Yes, sah!" Clewiston ushered Browder, Givadon and Mizagelle through the entrance. The three of them were so grateful to be on their way to a good meal and rest that none showed surprise at Urthfist's decision to question Melanie out on the slope.

When they were alone, the Badger Lord said, "The fact that Browder has returned with you suggests that he displayed no treachery. Tell me what you found."

"There's a pass, all right, sir," Melanie began. "Right where he said it would be, and just as he described it. He knew it so well, he had to have been over it before. We climbed as high up as we could before the light failed, because some stretches were treacherous and we would've had trouble getting back down in the dark. And that's not all, My Lord. Before the path gave way to solid rock, we found pawprints. His pawprints. Coming down, but none leading up. Unless that hare can fly, he came over the mountains just like he said he did."

"You feel sure of this?"

"I'd stake my reputation on it," Melanie said, and then felt like a complete fool. Of course more than her reputation was at stake here. Much more.

"So, tell me about the pass. Could I get through it?"

"Well ... um ... "

"By the fur, soldier, don't worry about bruising my feelings! I need your objective assessment on this!"

"In that case ... no," Melanie answered. "We climbed almost to the top before we started down again. It was tricky enough just for the four of us. For an entire column of hares, or for a larger creature such as yourself, I think that trail would prove impassable."

Urthfist sighed. "Thank you, Melanie. That was what I needed to know."

"One odd thing, sir."

"Yes?"

"You'd think a hare who could make a journey like Browder did would have the stamina of ... well, of a badger, sir. But he ran out of steam long before me an' my gels. You saw him just now. I'll admit, that was a hard day's run for any hare, but we thought his heart was gonna burst. Would've been back sooner, but we rested twice on the way back just so he could catch his breath."

"And your conclusion from this?"

"Well ... I don't know, sir. Just that he's no wonder beast. Could be he's just what he appears to be: a simple woodlander, a bachelor hare who was pressed into service in a time of need, to help his fellow creatures. Before we left this morning, he seemed awfully proud of making it over the mountains. Said it was the greatest thing he'd ever done. Well, from seeing how he likes to sleep, and how tired he got on today's run, I'd say that's probably true. I don't think Browder's a beast accustomed to doing great deeds. Probably took everything he had in him to make it here from Mossflower in three days. A case of needful times bringin' out the best in a chap, I s'pose."

Urthfist pondered this. "So, all the evidence I have heard today supports his story, about his journey over the mountains and about my brother moving south into Mossflower."

Melanie's ears twitched forward. "You've heard back from the other Patrols, My Lord?"

Urthfist nodded. "And Traveller has returned."

Melanie's face lit up. "Traveller! How is he? Wot did he have to say?"

"He did not witness the fall of Redwall, but he confirms that my brother's horde has indeed come south, and was last seen headed into the heart of Mossflower. Also, that my brother was not with the main horde for the last several days Traveller had them under observation, which bears out Browder's story that Urthblood arrived at Redwall first, ahead of his army. And all the double Patrols returned without incident, and without report of any enemy to be seen within two day's march of Salamandastron. You were the last one I was waiting to hear from ... and now that I have, I still am not sure what I should do."

"Well, um ... " Melanie realized there was no counsel she could offer to make his decision easier, no reassurance that would lighten the burden of responsibility that was now his alone.

Urthfist stared toward the mountains to the east, in the approximate direction of Redwall. "Do I abandon Salamandastron, and let the coastlands fall to Tratton? Or do I stay here to defend these shores, and leave the goodbeasts of Mossflower to suffer under my brother's tyranny? The wrong choice could lead to a disaster from which these lands might never recover."

Melanie realized this was the kind of thing Urthfist might have said to Colonel Clewiston when they were alone, and at first she did not feel worthy of making a reply. But as she considered his words, she felt compelled to speak her mind.

"We're yours to command, My Lord. But, if I may say so, I don't see how we can just sit by and not help Redwall. That Abbey stands for the peace and security of all Mossflower, or so I've always heard. We can't leave it in the paws of a tyrant. Not if there's anything we can do about it."

Urthfist stared down at her. "And what of yourselves? The Long Patrol would undoubtedly suffer heavy losses in a campaign against my brother."

"He started this, sir. Maybe we're meant to finish it. But we will fight for you, and die for you if need be, because that's our duty. Don't let good creatures suffer because of your concern for us, My Lord. If we're not going to the assistance of Redwall, it had better be for some reason other than that."

"I do not doubt your valor, or your loyalty. It is the security of all the lands I must consider now. And that security will be placed in the greatest of jeopardy if the Long Patrol is decimated. If you waste yourselves in a fruitless battle against my brother's horde, who will defend the defenseless?"

"Yah, but if we can liberate Redwall, won't it all be worth it?"

Urthfist was silent for many heartbeats. When he spoke at last, his voice was flat and empty.

"That is the precise thing I must decide."

00000000000

A heavy morning mist hung over the coastal plains around Salamandastron. The sun had not yet shown its face over the peaks to the east, and no breath of wind stirred the grayness that blanketed the land. The sea was likewise calm, with only the gentlest of breakers lazily lapping the shore. The fog was cool and damp, but still the morning was as oppressive as any humid summer midday.

One hundred and one hares stood out on the southern slopes of the mountain fortress, neatly ranked into five groups of twenty, with Browder standing apart as the odd beast out. Traveller had taken the absent Hanchett's place in Captain Taywood's platoon.

Four of the platoons stood at attention upon the lower slope, almost down to the sandy edge where the foot of the mountain met the wide beach. The fifth, Colonel Clewiston's command, stood farther up toward the entrance, facing their assembled comrades.

Melanie and her daughters Givadon and Mizagelle held their place in the ranks behind the Colonel. The female hare could not help but think that she had somehow influenced the course of these mighty events with the words she'd spoken to her badger master after returning from her run with Browder. She was having grave misgivings now about not holding her tongue.

Lord Urthfist finished reviewing the four mobilized platoons, then strode toward his Colonel. In the day and two nights which had passed since the return of Traveller and the Patrols, Salamandastron had been fortified for a prolonged siege. All but two of the side entrances had been sealed tight with timber, rocks and mortar, and those two doorways could be blocked from within by a single hare at the first sign of trouble. Extra provisions had been harvested from the sparse terraced gardens, while caches of arrows, spears and sling pebbles were piled near every window slit.

Urthfist was going to Redwall. But he was hardly about to leave his home unguarded. The most difficult part of the preparations had been deciding who among the Long Patrols would accompany him into battle ... and who would be ordered to stay behind to safeguard the mountain while their Lord and master marched off to face his ultimate challenge.

Clewiston gave the Badger Lord an impassioned gaze. "Sah, I really should be going with you."

Urthfist was a formidable figure in his full battle armor, the massive iron lance in his paw as tall as a hare. Not exactly a beast to be argued with or second-guessed. Nevertheless, the Colonel felt obligated to protest right to the last.

"We have been through this already, several times, Colonel. There isn't a hare in the Patrols who doesn't feel duty-bound to be at my side on this march. But the defense of Salamandastron must not be ignored. I need my best and most experienced commander here in my absence ... somebeast who can keep Salamandastron from falling into the dirty paws of searats in the event that I do not return."

"Beggin' your pardon, sah, but it's not the searats wot's got me worried. We both know there's only one reason you wouldn't return, and in that event I suspect I'd be gettin' a visit from another badger I'd rather not be seeing in these parts. You can't expect twenty hares to hold off your brother's entire horde if they come knockin'."

"I expect you to do the best you can," Urthfist said, "and your best is nothing to be sneezed at. There have been times in its history that Salamandastron has been held by as few as a dozen of the Long Patrol."

Yeah, but not with the likes of Tratton and Urthblood hanging around, Clewiston wanted to say, but diplomatically held his tongue.

"My immediate concern is Tratton's searats," Urthfist continued, "and I think our preparations are sufficient to fend off any bid he might make to capture Salamandastron for his own. But only if a platoon of stouthearted hares are within to fight off his attacks. As far as my brother goes, I am counting on him basking in his capture of Redwall and taking some time to fortify his position there before he starts thinking about his next conquest. Perhaps he will know I am coming, and perhaps we will catch him by surprise. But I do not think he will immediately threaten Salamandastron ... at least not until he and I have met in battle. After that, only fate knows." The badger placed his paw on Clewiston's shoulder. "I know this will not be easy for you, my old friend, but think how much harder it would be for one of the younger, less experienced commanders. One platoon must stay behind, and I deemed yours to be the best for this task. And that is my final decision, Colonel."

Clewiston swallowed, knowing the last word had been said on this matter. "Yes, sah."

"We will head south and then east, circling the mountains at the first opportunity that the terrain affords, and then head for Redwall along the most direct route. I doubt any of my brother's forces will appear in the coastlands anytime soon, but it might be a different story in the plains beyond the mountains. I can only hope that resistance from the good creatures of Mossflower will occupy his attention enough so that we may cross the better part of the plains without his knowledge, but this might be too much to expect. Still, there is no way to approach Redwall under cover of forest without going many days out of our way, so the open exposure of the plains is a danger we must risk. A proper deployment of our advance Patrols might surprise their outlying sentries and allow us to overpower them before they have a chance to let my brother know I am coming."

"One can hope, sah. But those lands are unknown to us. Even Browder might not be of much help to you on the plains, if he's lived all his life in the woodlands."

"No, although he did cross the plains to get to Salamandastron. But I am counting on meeting other creatures along the way who know those flatlands and who will help us ... goodbeasts who may have heard of my brother's crimes and would not see such horrors spread beyond the woods of Mossflower to their own territory. Some of them may even join our fight. I am leaving today with eighty hares, but our numbers might be much greater by the time we reach Redwall. And, of course, there will be the creatures of Mossflower itself, who will doubtless fight to win back their home. It could be that my brother has made a mistake that will end his days of conquest forever."

"If anybeast can defeat him, sah, it's you. Just like Browder said, you're the only hope those Redwall folk have." Clewiston studied his master's expression, the peculiar gleam in Urthfist's eye. "But that's not the only reason you're going, is it?"

"You know me too well, Colonel. It is my destiny that I am going to meet, as foretold twenty seasons ago." Urthfist was silent a moment. "It's funny ... I always read the prophecy that the final battle would take place here, at Salamandastron. Perhaps this is a good omen, that I will fight my brother in a place unfamiliar to him, where I may have many allies."

"As you say, sah, perhaps his days have come to their end."

"We will know very soon, Colonel. I have never been shown a prophecy of my own, so I have had to interpret my brother's as best I could. There was always room in its wording for the final confrontation to go either way. In a few days we will know for certain, and the prophecy that was cast in rock twenty seasons ago will be resolved for all to see."

The sun cleared the peaks and cast a ghostly glow through the morning mist. In an hour or two the fog would burn away, but for now Salamandastron lay enshrouded around its base, the air of the coastlands as thickly obscured as the future.

Clewiston saluted the Badger Lord. "I'll not fail you, sah. Salamandastron will be kept safe until your return." The hare's tone suggested that Urthfist's return was a certainty.

"I know it will, Colonel." Urthfist turned to join the four platoons that would be going with him to Redwall.

"Sah ... "

"Yes, Colonel?"

"Kill some vermin for us, will you?"

"You can count on it, Colonel."

Moments later, the march was underway. Every hare in Colonel Clewiston's platoon stood stiffly at attention on the mountain slope, paws to brows in formal salute, as Urthfist led his army away to the south. They stood that way for a long time after the departing troops had vanished into the morning mists.


	10. Chapter 21

THE CRIMSON BADGER - Chapter Twenty-One

The midmorning sun had not yet risen high enough to blast the environs of Redwall with its full summer fury. Beyond the tall sandstone perimeter wall of the Abbey, Mossflower Woods created an immense haven of shady glens and cool forest floor. Even with the border trees that Alex and Mina had cut down, the unbroken expanse of leafy canopy still came to within a stone's toss of the Abbey walls in several spots.

Such a place was to be found along the northern wall, just outside the small gate there. Jans and Broggen, the manacled mouse and stoat duo, luxuriated on the thick grass and moss beneath the forest edge, lying on their backs and gazing peacefully up at the sun-dappled leaf layers overhead. They were just far enough into the woods that they would be hidden from the view of anybeast on the Abbey ramparts, but easily visible to any stroller who happened to come across them ... especially if the newcomer knew where to look.

"Hullo! Jans, Broggen!"

The stoat sat up. "Huh, looks like soup's on, Jansy mate."

Jans was reluctant to raise himself up from the cozy hollow he'd impressed upon the cool grass. "Ah, it'll keep for a bit, Broggs. I'm still enjoying me nap."

Unfortunately, it was very hard for the mouse to remain prone while his larger companion climbed to his feet. Jans found himself being pulled up paw-first by Broggen. He was still muttering under his breath when Cyril drew up to them.

"Right on time you are," Broggen said in complimentary tones. "You Redwallers shore enuff are a punctual bunch. Ol' Urthblood likes that in a beast."

"Bit too punctual, if'n you ask me," Jans grumbled, then shrugged. "Oh, well. I agreed to this, so no grounds fer complainin' now. So tell us, Master Cyril, just what you were wantin' to learn?"

Cyril was glancing nervously over both shoulders, expecting to be missed at any moment and called angrily back to the Abbey by Maura or Aurelia. The two warriors noticed his apprehension. "Had t'give 'em the ol' slip, eh?" Broggen asked.

Cyril nodded. "I'm not really allowed out on my own. If Maura catches me she'll tan my hide for sure."

Jans laughed heartily. "That's an important part of bein' a fighting beast, bein' able to slip around without raising an eye or a cry. Good work, lad!"

Cyril beamed at receiving such a compliment from a seasoned Northlands warrior.

Broggen wagged a paw at the scabbard Cyril was carrying. "Wot's et, little bucko?"

The young mouse held it out. "I borrowed it from one of Lord Urthblood's soldiers when he wasn't looking. Tubby rat in a fringed brown jerkin. He only had half of one ear."

"There's lots of us missing ears," Jans said, "but from your description I reckon that's ol Gratch of the rearguard. Lemme guess ... was he snorin' when you, a-heh, borrowed that there sword from him?"

"Like a badger with a frog in its throat. Stretched out by the forest fringe outside the east wallgate, dead to the world."

This assessment made Jans and Broggen whoop such gales of laughter, Cyril was sure they'd be heard clear down in Cavern Hole. His nervous glancing about began anew.

"That Gratch, 'ee always did like 'is beauty rest!" Broggen declared mirthfully. "I swear, that rat could sleep even while 'ee was marchin'. A badger with a frog in his throat - harrharr!"

"Yup, he could sure enuff snore to raise th' dead." Jans clapped his free paw around Cyril's shoulder, growing more fond of this Abbey novice with each new revelation. "That's another necessary skill for a warrior to know, young Cyril: how to take what weapons he needs wherever he has to find 'em."

A sudden thought struck Cyril. "When Gratch finds out I took his sword, he won't be angry, will he?"

"Oh, he'll be furious," Jans grinned. "Not half as furious as Lord Urthblood, though. Don't you worry, Cyril. Gratch is our cook, and his prowess with a blade comes in a distant second to his skills with cookpot and ladel. He's as non-fighting a rat as you'll ever meet. And if Urthblood finds out he let his weapon be taken from him while he was asleep, well, let's just say it's not something Gratch'll raise a fuss about on his own. Teach that lazybones a lesson if he wakes up to find his sword gone. That kind of thing can get you killed in the Northlands."

Cyril hadn't realized his pilfering of a sleeping rat's sword could be such a serious matter. "Perhaps I'd better go put it back ... "

"Before you've 'ad a chance to show us wot you can do with it?" Broggen waved aside Cyril's misgivings. "Aw, that old stirpot'll probably sleep straight through to sundown. We can still get in some good jousting before he'll ever miss his ol' sticker, I betcher."

"Listen to Broggs," Jans said. "Long as nobeast saw you take it, Cyril, might's well put it to some use. Broggs an' I can slip it back on him when we're done, so you'll be in the clear. Now, what kind of sword training have you got?"

"Uh ... none, really. But, I saw you two sparring with Alexander and Montybank two days ago. No contender has ever knocked down our Abbey Skipper before. I want to be able to do what I saw you do. I want to be a warrior."

"Well, you shore enuff got the spirit fer it," observed the stoat.

"And that's important," added Jans. "But why us, lad? Why didn't any of your Redwall defenders give you training?"

Cyril toyed with the idea of making up some story to hide the embarrassing truth, but in the end said, "Because, from the time I was old enough to attend classes, I've been a bellringer. That's all I've ever been, and all they see me as. But I don't want to be a bellringer for the rest of my life! I want to be a warrior, like Martin and Matthias, and you two. I want to be able to fight for good creatures everywhere, the poor honest beasts who can't stand up for themselves. I want to fight against the evil creatures like Cluny who would terrorize and oppress us. I want - "

"Whoa, whoa!" Jans raised his paws, forcing Broggen's right paw up too. "You don't hafta convince us! Just asking, was all. If pointers on swordswinging is what you want, Broggs and I will give you a couple of rounds."

"Well spoke, tho'," Broggen put in. "Oughtta be a scholar, with a tongue like that."

"Enough talk, then." Jans took the scabbard from Cyril and withdrew Gratch's blade. It was a short sword, well suited for a mouse as well as a rat. Casting the scabbard aside, Jans pushed the grip into Cyril's paw, coaching the young mouse's grasp with his own digits until he was satisfied. "There, see that? You've got to keep the balance right, so that you can swing either way, or stab forward. Not too tight, now. Keep your wrist loose. Put your body behind it, but don't become clumsy. You want to control it, not throw it about so that it drags you along behind it. Remember, balance. Now, hold it up and across, so it can be a shield as well as an attack blade. Ah, not bad ... now take a few practice swings, just to get the feel of the weight in motion ... "

Before he knew it, Cyril was slicing the air before him with sweeps of the short sword, back and forth, up and down, side to side - all under the direction of Jans, but the blade felt so comfortable in his paw, Cyril was sure he could have done it on his own. A sudden weariness in his muscles made Cyril realize he'd been swinging the weapon for quite some time. Checking the sun through the leafy overhang, he guessed it must be near noon. Where had the time gone?

"Bellringer, my chained paw!" Broggen remarked. "I've seen so-called swordbeasts up north wot couldn't swing a blade 'alf as well."

Jans nodded in agreement. "Yes, there must be something about yanking those bellropes that gives a beast a feel for the steel, that's all I can say." He drew his own sword and held it up in a duelling stance. "Now let's tap blades for a bit. That's where you really learn what's what."

Cyril quickly found that two-beasted swordplay was a lot more challenging than fighting empty air. Even though Jans was obviously going very easy on him, the clashes of steel on steel soon had Cyril's paw stinging, and twice he lost his weapon to swipes from his opponent's blade. Jans coached as best he could, giving quick words of advice and sometimes leading by way of example, showing Cyril moves he should try to imitate.

Reaching down to retrieve Gratch's sword after losing it the second time, Cyril puffed to catch his breath. "Whew! This is a lot tougher than you warriors make it look."

"Takes some gettin' used to," Jans admitted. "But a trained warrior might have to fight for hours straight, up in the north. I remember a couple battles ... " Jans shook his head at the memories. "Tough times Broggs 'n' I've seen, serving under Lord Urthblood. You rest a bit, Cyril, then Broggs'll have a go with you. He may be big, but he's not as good with the short sword as I am. Maybe you can even knock it out of his paw, if you remember all the things I told you."

"Don't bet on it," Broggen told his companion with a grin. The stoat cast aside his double-pointed javelin and took Jans's sword, hefting the weapon to get its feel. "Jus' call me "Lefty,' lads!" he cried, tracing a crude figure eight in the air in front of him. It was plain that left-pawed swordplay was not one of Broggen's strong suits.

Jans stepped back and away from his stoat partner as far as the manacle chain would allow. "I'll keep my distance. You might split me open without meaning to!"

"Aw, I wouldn't. Anytime ye're ready, Cyril lad!"

None of them noticed a fourth creature approaching through the forest from the north, ducking and bobbing from the cover of one tree trunk to the next so that it could draw near without being seen.

Cyril braced himself, trying to remember everything Jans had told him, and stepped into duelling range. Broggen's blows were clumsier and therefore heavier than Jans's had been, and Cyril's paw began stinging anew. But he held on to the sword.

"Go easy there, Broggs!" Jans called out. "This one's not an experienced fighter. Just tap around with him a bit."

"I'm bein' as gennel as I knows how," Broggen protested, with a trace of petulence.

"Gentle like an oaf!" Janes muttered. "Cyril! Don't take his blows straight on. Parry and dodge with the blade, like I showed you. Watch for openings, and try to keep on top."

The stranger from the north was now at the edge of the glade, standing alongside a tree mere paces away yet still unnoticed. It held itself perfectly still, its light green and sand-colored garments blending into the surroundings in a perfect display of camouflage. For several moments it merely observed the scene before it. Then ...

Cyril was trying to follow Jan's advice, but he was too tired by this time. Broggen was slow with his swings, but not so slow that Cyril could avoid every one. Now a forceful blow came down squarely on Gratch's sword, knocking it from Cyril's grasp and causing the young mouse to fall backward onto his tail.

Broggen lowered his blade. "Oh, sorry - "

"Eulalia! Rottin' blighter!"

From out of nowhere a hare came flying at Broggen with an impossible airborne kick. Both huge feet caught the stoat full force, one in the head and one in the shoulder, and Broggen went tumbling tail up. The hare's momentum was so great that Jans was pulled down too and dragged for several paces until Broggen stopped rolling and came to rest.

In the same fluid motion that he landed, the hare stooped down to retrieve Gratch's sword. He passed it back to Cyril even as he pulled the Abbey novice to his feet. "Here y'go, laddie! Never let 'em get you down an' out!"

Cyril gaped at the hare, the returned sword dangling from a limp paw. "Who ... who are you?"

"Never mind that. 'Nuff time fer proper introductions later. Business first ... " The hare bounded over to Broggen, scooping up the sword that had flown from the stoat's grasp when he'd been sent sprawling. Broggen lay motionless, knocked senseless from the flying kick. The hare glanced down at the iron manacles that linked Jans and Broggen together, and drew the wrong conclusion. "Dirty slaver scum! This is what we do to th' likes of you at Salamandastron!" With that, he raised the sword to plunge it into Broggen's exposed throat.

From where he lay, Jans could just reach Broggen's javelin. Seizing one pointed end of the shaft, he swung it hard against the hare's legs with a whack! that brought their attacker down.

"Yeow! Wot're you doin', chappo?"

Regaining his feet, Jans pressed the javelin point into the soft flesh below the hare's jaw. "Drop that sword, hare, or I'll make yer brain see daylight!"

"You're one daft slave mouse!" The hare turned to look at Cyril. "Is this how you folks thank beasts who come to your rescue?"

Cyril ignored him, kneeling down to see how Broggen was. He was afraid his stoat friend might have been killed by the hare's kick; he'd never imagined anybeast could launch itself like that. To his immense relief Broggen groaned and fluttered his eyelids, but fell back upon trying to sit up. "Oooo, me head! My noodle's been scrambled!"

"Cyril! Get my sword from this hare, then stand back while I keep him covered. As soon as Broggen's up to walking, we'll take this beast into the Abbey and let him explain himself!"

"Jolly well right I will!" The hare made to get up, but Jans put more pressure on the javelin to keep his adversary pinned.

"Uh, I left the north gate unlatched when I sneaked out," Cyril told Jans. "Unless the otters came back and locked it, we should be able to get back in that way."

"Good!" Jans looked to the stoat. "Broggs, d'you think you can walk?"

Broggen clutched at his aching head and squinted. "Lemme try an' stand first, matey." Slowly he struggled to his feet, leaning on Cyril for support. "Oo, ah, I think I'll live. Wish it were winter, so's I could bury me noggin in a snowbank."

"Sister Aurelia will give you a bed in the Infirmary," Cyril said to Broggen. "She's got potions for any type of hurt."

The hare watched and listened to these proceedings with growing incredulity. "You're friends? A moment ago you chaps were tryin' to slice 'n' dice each other."

"They were just havin' a friendly go-round," Jans said crossly, "until you interrupted an' nearly knocked my pal's bloody head off!"

"Oh, I'm not bleedin', Jansy mate," Broggen corrected Jans.

His mouse companion ignored him. "Right," he ordered the hare, "on your feet - and no tricks! We'll sort this out once and for all. Now, get moving!" With the javelin at his back, the hare was led toward the wallgate. Cyril gave Jans's sword to Broggen so the stoat could help keep their prisoner covered. That left Cyril with Gratch's sword, and the dilemma of how he was now going to return the rat's weapon unnoticed.

00000000000

There was quite a commotion on the north Abbey grounds.

Several creatures witnessed the foursome's entrance through the wallgate, and Cyril's hopes for an anonymous return to the Abbey were immediately dashed. Two soldiers from Urthblood's army, a weasel and a shrew who were part of the Northlander rotation currently inside Redwall, raced over in response to Jans' and Broggen's calls, helping the Abbey otter guards to keep the hare properly surrounded. The young otter Rumter rushed off to inform his Skipper Montybank of this development. Likewise, Elmwood took one look at the strange hare and, recognizing it as no resident of this part of Mossflower, sprang toward the south lawns to alert Alexander. And at least three different mice of the order, drawn to the scene by the flurry of activity, set off at once to fetch the Abbess, or Arlyn, or Maura, or whomever they could find.

In very short order the northern cloisters were packed with beasts who'd turned out to see about this new arrival to Redwall. The speedy Alexander was the first Abbey leader on the scene; Machus and Mina were not far behind. The hare bristled visibly at the sight of the fox. But that reaction was nothing compared to his first sight of Urthblood, striding toward him with Monty, Maura, Vanessa and Arlyn at his side.

Moving like lightning, the hare ducked back from the ring of swords and spearpoints hemming him in. Reaching into his tunic he withdrew a long throwing knife and cocked his paw behind his ear to hurl it at the Badger Lord.

Broggen, who was closest to the hare and held the longest weapon, knocked the knife from the hare's paw with a smack from his javelin shaft. The hare tried to snatch the javelin away and scramble after his knife in the same motion, but Alex, Machus and a dozen other creatures jumped on him and held him immobile.

Urthblood stepped up to the pinioned hare, outwardly unmoved by the fact that there had just been an attempt on his life. "What is going on here?" he demanded of his subordinates.

"Broggs and I were drilling outside the wall, Lord," Jans spoke up, "and this vicious beast assaulted us without warning or provocation."

Abbess Vanessa joined Urthblood at the armored badger's side. She looked the hare in the eye. "Who are you, and what brings you to Redwall?"

The pinned creature looked from Vanessa to Urthblood and back again, confusion plain on his features. "I think somebeast had best explain wot's goin' on here."

"You are the one who has explaining to do," Urthblood said ominously. "Answer the Abbess's questions."

The hare glared at Urthblood, fear and hatred vying for prominence on his face. Addressing Vanessa, he said, "My name's Hanchett, Ma'am, of the Salamandastron Long Patrols. I came to warn you ... but I see I'm too late."

"Warn us? Of what?"

"That Urthblood might be coming to Redwall."

The gathered woodlanders regarded the hare quizically. "Lord Urthblood and his army are guests of Redwall," Vanessa said at length. "He has offered us his assistance in strengthening our defenses. You speak of him as if he were our enemy."

"Ma'am, this brute's the enemy of every goodbeast alive."

Urthblood spoke. "I think this would best be continued down in Cavern Hole, with just the Abbey leaders."

Hanchett strained against the many paws that held him. "Oh no you don't, you deceitful, murderous beast! I'll not let you lead me quietly away to disappear like all your other victims! What I have to say, I'll say in front of all these good, decent creatures. Or are you afraid of what they might hear?"

Vanessa held up her paws. "Nobeast will come to harm in Redwall if I have anything to say about it. Now, you - Hanchett, was it? - you've caused quite a ruckus, and you've attempted violence against our guests. I would have your reasons for such actions, and I would have them now!"

Vanessa was not a particularly imposing figure, but when she exercised her full authority as Abbess she became a mouse to be reckoned with. Hanchett swallowed, thoroughly cowed by her tone.

"Yes, Ma'am. Well, you see, when I got near this place, I saw that little feller over there," Hanchett nodded toward Cyril, who tried to shrink inside his fur, "locked in battle with this oaf of a stoat. I thought he was a goodbeast in need of assistance, so I kicked my way into the row. An' when I saw that this vermin had another mouse chained to 'im, I surmised he was a vile slaver in need of dispatchin'. That's what I was doing, an' the next thing I know ... wham! All these beasts wot were fightin' each other suddenly start in on me." And here Hanchett stopped, as if all had been explained.

"Ah. And, tell me, was it my imagination, or did you just attempt to kill Lord Urthblood with a throwing knife?"

"Oh, that." Hanchett seemed as if this were the most natural thing in the world for him to have done. "Course I did. What else would you expect me to do?"

The assembled Redwallers were flabbergasted by the hare's nonchalant attitude toward his failed assasination attempt. "So please indulge us," Vanessa went on, "and pray tell us why you would want to do such a thing."

Now Hanchett looked to be getting exasperated. "There's not one hare of the Long Patrol wouldn't 'ave done the same, Ma'am. Urthblood has been our enemy longer'n many of us've been alive."

"This beast is mad," Urthblood rumbled. "He speaks nonsense."

"Takes a madbeast to know one, I 'spect," Hanchett taunted the badger warrior.

"Quiet, both of you!" Vanessa said sharply. "I want to get to the bottom of this. Hanchett, please explain fully, so we can all understand, why you have come to Redwall, and why you consider Lord Urthblood to be our enemy."

"My master, Lord Urthfist - uh, he's the legitimate Lord of Salamandastron - well, he's been keeping tabs on this one for the past twenty seasons, ever since Urthblood abandoned the throne of the mountain and stormed off in a rage. Tracking from a distance, I guess you could say, using the faster hares of the Patrols to relay reports. As long as Urthblood stayed to the Northlands, we were content to simply watch his horrors from afar. But we all knew he would have to come back south someday. When we started to see signs that he was gettin' ready to move toward Mossflower, I was sent to warn you." Hanchett glared at Urthblood. "Never guessed he'd move so flippin' fast."

"So let me make sure I have this right," said Vanessa. "Urthfist views Lord Urthblood - his own brother - as an enemy?"

"Guess you could say that, given our standing orders."

"And those are?"

"Same as they've been for the past twenty seasons: if ever Urthblood should try to return to Salamandastron, he's to be slain on sight. And our platoon captains don't let us forget it for one minute, no they don't."

"This is all news to me," Urthblood said. "This beast is either mad or lying."

"Or else there's something going on at Salamandastron that you haven't been clued into," Alex suggested.

Urthblood gave the squirrel archer a penetrating stare. "You raise an interesting point, friend. Abbess, may I ask a few questions of my own? This hare has cast serious aspersions on my character, and I think it only fair that I be allowed to address him."

Vanessa nodded her assent.

Urthblood stepped forward, towering over Hanchett and causing the hare to blanch in spite of his demonstrated courage. "You say you are from Salamandastron, and you serve my brother. Why should I believe you?"

"I don't give a seagull's arse wot you believe. My only concern is convincing these goodbeasts what kind of a monster they've let into their midst."

Urthblood walked completely around Hanchett, studying the hare from all sides. "I will admit that it has been many seasons since I was last at Salamandastron, so I do not know all my brother's hares by name or by sight. I will grant that you look and sound the part. If you are an imposter, sent by my enemies to sow doubts among my allies, you have put a great deal of work into your charade. Even I might mistake you for the real thing."

"One of us is lyin' to these goodbeasts, and it ain't me," Hanchett snorted.

"The Long Patrols are always organized in groups of three hares. If you really are from Salamandastron, where are your two companions?"

"I was sent alone. Lord Urthfist wanted speed, and I'm about the fastest hare in the Patrols. He felt sending three would only slow me down."

"You are so modest." Urthblood turned to Vanessa. "Abbess, I must insist that you allow me to interrogate this beast alone, in my own fashion. There are questions only I would know to ask, and only I will be able to gauge the truthfulness of his responses. I need hardly remind you that he may be dangerous."

"Yo ho, Abbess, Marm!" Hanchett protested. "Aren't you mice sworn to give sanctuary to beasts in need? Well, I'm invokin' my rights here. I plead for the protection of the order of Redwall!"

Alexander looked incredulous. "Such protection is not usually extended to creatures who assault our guests."

"Yeah," said Jans. "He nearly killed my mate Broggs!"

Hanchett sniffed. "If I'd known he was one of Urthblood's lot, I'd've kicked a little harder."

"Hey, watch it there!" Alex warned.

"Abbess, Ma'am," Hanchett pleaded, "if you leave me alone with Urthblood, he'll kill me, sure as I'm standin' here. If you believe nothing else I've told you, believe that. Don't let that happen!"

Vanessa waved her paws for silence and considered the situation. At length she turned to Urthblood. "My Lord, unless this hare is putting on a truly remarkable performance, it seems to me that he truly does fear you."

"Good. That can be used to our advantage in questioning him."

Vanessa shook her head. "We do not terrorize creatures here at Redwall. I am granting his request not to be left alone with you. He will be well guarded by Redwallers, to make sure he causes no mischief. But when he is questioned, it will be in Cavern Hole, at a full assemblage of the Abbey leaders." She cast her gaze around the crowd. "Monty, Alex ... I am putting this hare in your charge. Find some accommodation where he may be confined ... and see to it that he comes to no harm."

"Aye, Nessa, we're on it!" Monybank pushed his way through the throng around Hanchett and helped Alex and some of the other squirrels and otters escort the hare across the lawns toward the Abbey building. The departing glare he received from Urthblood's troops was downright venomous.

"Well!" declared Vanessa. "If that was not the strangest thing yet of all the strange things that I've witnessed at Redwall this season, I don't know what is! What do you make of this, Lord?"

The big badger shook his head slowly, gazing after the departed hare. "I must think on this awhile. But I will say, Abbess, that I do not believe this turn of events can bode well, however it turns out."


	11. Chapter 22

THE CRIMSON BADGER - Chapter Twenty-Two

Brother Geoff was surprised to see Winokur standing at the entranceway to the underground archives. The recorder mouse was bustling about in the lantern light, straightening the latest journals and scrolls that he and Cyrus had been reading up on the walltop.

"Oh, hello, Winokur. I haven't seen you down this way since your Dad arrived at Redwall with Urthblood's army. Sorry, I can't stop to chat now. The Abbess wants all the Abbey leaders in Cavern Hole for the questioning of that hare, and I'm sure they'll want to start right away."

"Doesn't look that way, Geoff sir," the young otter reported. "Lord Urthblood just went outside to confer with his captains. Doesn't look like he'll be coming back in anytime soon. Perhaps not until after sundown."

Geoff stared at Winokur, the book he'd been about to file forgotten in his paws. "What? Are you sure? Urthblood seemed to want to interrogate that hare as soon as possible. We were all getting ready to drop everything we were doing to accommodate him."

Winokur shrugged. "I don't know anything about that. Guess he changed his mind."

Geoff slid his book into its proper place on the sagging shelves. "Are any of his troops still in Redwall?"

"Are you kidding? Just passed half a dozen of his shrews when I was coming down the tunnel to see you. They almost didn't want to let me pass."

"What? Urthblood's shrews, down here in the tunnels?"

"Skipper Montybank decided to stash the hare in one of the old cellar rooms, with a door that can be locked. Lord Urthblood insisted that some of his soldiers be allowed to help guard him. It actually got a little contentious from what I heard - the Abbess telling him we were perfectly capable of safeguarding one creature, and Urthblood telling her she didn't understand security matters. In the end she agreed to let him send a few down to help Monty's otters, but only if they were mice, hedgehogs or shrews. Urthblood went with the shrews."

"That's odd," Geoff remarked. "I'd have thought Urthblood would assign some of his otters for that task, since Monty and Captain Saybrook have been getting along so well."

"Again, I can't say one way or the other," said Winokur. "My Dad says that badger always knows the right thing to do in any military situation. So I guess he knows what he's doin'."

"I suppose. So, what brings you down here, Wink?"

"Um, I was wondering if I might be able to borrow some of the accounts we have of the various battles fought by the Badger Lords of Salamandastron?"

"Well," Geoff pushed his spectacles further up his snout, "there have been many of those over the generations, from Boar the Fighter in the time of Martin the Warrior all the way through to Cregga Rose-eyes and the battle at the Ridge of the Thousand. They're not all gathered together in any single volume, or group of volumes. I'd have to do quite a bit of looking. Why, has something occurred to you that you think might help us with what we've been looking for?"

"No, it's not that, sir. I have other reasons for making this request of you. But I'd really appreciate it if you could help me with this."

"Very well. I suppose I'll have the time, now that Lord Urthblood has postponed our session with our unexpected visitor. Tell you what. You promise me you'll run right down to alert me the moment anything happens or I'm needed for a council, and I'll set about finding you what you've asked for. Deal?"

Winokur smiled broadly. "Thank you very much, Geoff sir. I'll let you know straightaway, you can count on me."

"I'm sure I can. If nothing calls me away before suppertime, come on down to collect the records from me - I should have them all pulled by then. If I'm not overrun by contentious shrews in the meantime."

00000000000

Cyril poked his head around the doorway of the Infirmary. Seeing the coast was clear of adults likely to chastise him, he scooted over to where Broggen and Jans lay. He'd been given all the grief a young mouse could take for one day, and he was eager to rejoin his two new friends who treated him like a warrior in training instead of a naughty bellringer child.

Two beds had been pushed together for the mouse and stoat. Chained as they were, it was the only possible arrangement, and even then they both had to remain on their backs. If Broggen wanted to recuperate by getting some bedrest, Jans was left no choice but to join him. Their linked paws suspended over the narrow gap between the beds, Jans was clearly restless, and trying to make the best of the situation. He brightened at the sight of his young protege. "Hey, Cyril! Get over here an' keep us sorry louts from dyin' of boredom!"

"Aw, Jansy, enjoy it while y'got it," Broggen urged. "Next time ol' Urthblood has us on one of his forced marches, you'll wish yew're back in one o' these nice comfy beds." The stoat snuggled deeper into the soft mattress. "Ahhh, this's the life! Everybeast should have one o' these, an' time t' enjoy it!"

"Don't sound too happy - you're supposed to be recovering from an injury," Jans cautioned. "If Lord Urthblood were t' hear you, he'd have you on yer paws doin' punishment laps around Redwall ... which wouldn't be so bad, if I didn't have to run 'em with you." He looked up at Cyril. "So do tell, lad. What's been up while we've been lying here rottin' away?"

Cyril sat down on the edge of the next closest bed. At the moment, the Infirmary was empty except for the three of them. Sister Aurelia must have been downstairs, grabbing some supper for herself.

"Well, Maura and the Abbess weren't too happy when they found out about me sneaking outside with you. Gave me a real dressing down ... " Cyril gritted his teeth. "They lectured me all about responsibility, but they won't give me the responsibilities of an adult. Why, I'm almost as old as Matthias was when he faced down Cluny the Scourge!"

"Hey, sorry if we got you in trouble," Jans said.

Cyril shook off the apology. "No, it was my idea. I talked you into it. And I'd do it again! I'm no milk-whiskered infant!"

"Nay, that you ain't," Broggen agreed.

"Lord Urthblood said I could be a warrior if I wanted to. He said, if that was my destiny, then no power in the world could stop it from happening."

"If anybeast knows about destiny, it's him," said Jans. "From what I've seen, you've got the makings of a fighting beast, if that's what you want to be. And I'd stand up and tell that to anybeast who'd say otherwise, even your dear Abbess and that badger Mother of yours." Cyril's sour expression gave way to a grudging smile at these words of encouragement. "Now, what about Gratch's sword?"

"Oh, I snuck it to one of Lord Urthblood's shrews. He said he'd get it back to Gratch before he got in any trouble."

"Good thinkin'. Although, with all the commotion caused by that hare, I doubt Lord Urthblood would go outta his way to make an issue of Gratch losin' his sword while he slept. Bigger fish t' fry just now."

Cyril was much relieved. "I sure hope so. I don't want to cause anybeast problems ... "

"So, wot's th' story with that nasty hare who clobbered me?" Broggen inquired.

"We don't know any more than he told us when he was first brought in," Cyril informed the two Northlanders. "They stuck him down in one of the cellar rooms. And he's under guard of Montybank's otters and some of Lord Urthblood's shrews. Redwall doesn't have any dungeons, you know."

"Urthblood hasn't tried to interrogate him yet?" Jans asked.

"Not last I heard. Remember, the Abbess said she'd only allow the hare to be questioned at a full council in Cavern Hole? Well, that hasn't happened yet."

"Strange." Jans turned his head to look out the Infirmary window. "It's well past sundown. Must be sleeping on it. But that hare said some pretty rough things about our chief. Lord Urthblood won't let it rest at that. He can't."

"Well, that's why 'ee's the chief," Broggen said, resting his chin on his chest and closing his eyes. "He makes the decisions an' gets t' handle problems like this 'un, an' we jus' do wot we're told. Now, this ol' stoat's ready fer some shuteye."

Jans sighed. "Well, Broggs is right about one thing: we foot soldiers don't get much chance for resting our weary bones in beds this nice. Might's well make the most of it. Best be off with you, Cyril. Warriors need their sleep."

"Uh ... if you don't mind, Jans, I'd like to stay here with you for awhile. I ... I don't feel like I belong anywhere else in this Abbey tonight."

Jans gave the younger mouse an understanding smile. "Why, sure. I'm not all that sleepy just yet myself. And I got lots of stories about the Northlands I bet you'd love to hear."

"Jus' keep it low, fellers," Broggen moaned, already half-asleep. "I'm convalessin'."

Cyril came around to Jans's side of the twin beds and leaned closer. "Well," Jans began softly, "there was this one time ... "

00000000000

"Ahoy, mateys, an' make way! Comin' through with some grub!"

Rumter and Brydon had been slouching against the tunnel wall outside Hanchett's makeshift prison cell. Now they snapped to attention as their Skipper came toward them. Montybank was carrying a large tray from the kitchens, piled high with breads, cheese, pastries and two tall mugs of October ale.

"Sleepin' on watch, eh? That'll never do! We got a potentially dangerous beast in yonder chamber, and 'ere you two are, snoozin' away on yer rudders!" Monty's tone was playful. Nevertheless, Rumter and Brydon stood as straight as their javelins in proper military attitude.

"Beggin' yer pardon, Skip, but it's late, an' we haven't had a rest since mornin'. We could use some relief." Brydon's eyes strayed to the tray of food. "An some vittles wouldn't hurt none, either."

"Ah, ah, ah," Monty shook his head, "this 'ere's fer the hare. I'll wager our flop-eared interloper hasn't had a decent meal in a lot longer time than you lazy ponddogs. Pore beast must be famished. So, make yerselves useful - open that door an' lemme in!"

"Uh, wot if he tries to escape?" Rumter asked.

"Then you stop him. That's wotcher here fer, ain't it?"

Five of Urthblood's shrews, camped out farther down the tunnel to help guard Hanchett, now rushed over to the Redwall otters. "Don't you worry 'bout nuthin', you riverdogs. That bigfoot tries anything, he'll taste a bellyful of shrew steel!"

"And wot a rosy image that is!" Monty muttered. "All right, take up positions, arms ready - this tray's gettin' mighty heavy - you, Brydon lad, get the door ... "

Brydon unlocked the cell door and swung it open while the others stood at the ready. When no furious kicking beast tried to bully past them, Monty calmly stepped forward and entered the chamber. The door promptly slammed shut behind him.

It was well into the night, and many of the Abbeyfolk had retired for the evening ... and still Urthblood remained outside with his captains, his earlier insistence on interrogating Hanchett inexplicably forgotten. The Abbess was not content to wait on the Badger Lord's pleasure for some answers into this mystery, not while a creature was being denied its freedom in the cellars of Redwall.

Vanessa, out of fairness to Urthblood, didn't want to question Hanchett on her own. But the hare would have to be fed, and if the beast bringing him his food just so happened to share some innocent conversation with him, well, where was the harm in that?

Montybank had volunteered for the task, and was the logical choice for the job, since his easygoing manner was most likely to disarm their unwilling guest. A full-grown otter was also the only Redwaller, other than Maura, who could go toe-to-toe with a hare of the Long Patrols if Hanchett gave his server any trouble.

Hanchett sat up on the straw bedding that had been hastily provided for him. Monty regarded the hare in the low light cast by the single lantern in the cell. "Ah, just as I 'spected ... a proper upstandin' feller like yerself would never dream of causing any ruckus by tryin' to escape!"

Hanchett studied his visitor with a jaundiced eye. "You a Redwaller, or one of Urthblood's stinkin' horde?"

"Montybank Q. Slipstream, Skipper of otters for Redwall, at yer service!" He set the tray down on the floor before Hanchett, causing the hare's attentions to split between Monty and the food he'd brought.

"Hm. Urthblood's drafted some misguided woodland folk into his service too, so you can't take anything for granted these days."

"I've gotten t' know quite a few of those Northlanders," Monty said, "an' they're quite decent, fer th' most part. 'Specially th' mice an' otters. Mebbe you should get to know a few of 'em yerself."

"Perish th' blinkin' thought, chap. Fraternizing with the enemy, simply not allowed, wot?" Hanchett leaned over the tray. "Say, this looks good. Mind if I sample a trifle?"

"That's wot I brought it for. Scoff away, matey!"

"Don't mind if I do. Hmm, is this cheese fresh? Don't get much of that at Salamandastron. Mmmfp!" Hanchett stuffed a wedge of the cheese into his mouth and chewed heartily.

Monty lowered himself onto the floor opposite the hare. "Are you really from Salamandastron?"

"Certainly I am. Been a member of the Long Patrols for seven seasons now. Before that I was a leveret under Captain Taywood - Lieutenant Taywood then, he only became a squad captain after I'd been a full Patrol runner for two seasons. Can't remember any bally time when I wasn't livin' at Salamandastron."

"Wot's it like there?"

Hanchett took a deep draught of October ale. "Ah, good stuff, that! Must get the recipe." He set down the tankard, wiped his lips with one paw, and studied Monty. "Well," he concluded after a few moments' silent deliberation, "I guess it's no secret that there are presently a hundred hares at Salamandastron. Lord Urthfist has us divided into five platoons of twenty, each with its own captain. Each platoon squad can break up into six standard patrol groups of three hares apiece, with the captain and his lieutenant coordinating between all six. It works pretty well, once you get the hang of it."

"Yes, I can see how that system would take some gettin' used to," Monty said, helping himself to a vegetable pastie. "But I wasn't askin' 'bout tactical matters an' such. Wot I meant was the feelin' there. Why d'you an' Lord Urthfist see Urthblood as an enemy?"

"'Cos he's evil, you dunderhead! Can't you see that yourself when you clamp yer jolly peepers on 'im?"

"Oh, I'll be first t' admit he ain't exactly cheered up Redwall since comin' here. But he has strengthened up our defenses, just like he promised he would. I was always given t' understand that Badger Lords are a grim bunch in general. I'll bet yer own Urthfist doesn't win any awards fer sunny personality."

"That's 'cos for twenty seasons he's had to guard against searats from the west an' Urthblood from the north. Can't be easy on a beast's soul, knowin' you might hafta destroy your own brother someday."

"But why?" Monty demanded. "Why is Urthfist so convinced that Urthblood is his enemy? Did they have some kinda royal falling out? What started all this?"

Hanchett was silent awhile. "It's like this, chap. There's this prophecy up in the throne room of Salamandastron. Urthblood carved it just before he went bonkers and ran off. When Lord Urthfist read it, he declared his brother the enemy and ordered us hares to slay Urthblood if he ever again came to Salamandastron. Now, I'm not much of one for prophecies an' that sort of stuff, that's badger business. But wotever Urthblood wrote must've been pretty dire to make Lord Urthfist issue such a mandate."

"Urthblood told us about that prophecy the day he arrived at Redwall," Monty told the hare.

Hanchett gaped in amazement. "He did?"

"Yup. Said it foretold of some great crisis comin' soon, an' that Redwall 'n' Salamandastron would hafta become allies. That's why he's been helpin' make our Abbey more secure. Now, that doesn't sound like the kind o' thing that would make Urthfist issue a death warrant on his brother. Couldn't it be that Urthfist is reading the prophecy all wrong?"

"Wot, ye're suggesting Lord Urthfist has spent the last twenty seasons of his life in a virtual state o' siege, simply 'cos he didn't read a few lines carefully enuff? Give him some credit, chappie! He is a Badger Lord, after all, not some country bumpkim!"

"Oh, I'm not sayin' he's not a clever one. But mebbe he's more concerned fer himself than anything else. Way it strikes me, that order he issued 'gainst Urthblood would be a good way t' keep the throne of Salamandastron fer himself. Ain't Urthblood the older brother, an' wouldn't Urthfist hafta yield Lordship of the mountain to him if he returned?"

The color drained from Hanchett's face. "I think you'd better leave now," he said through clenched teeth.

Monty opened his mouth to utter some calm reassurance, then realized too late that he'd offered the hare a mortal insult. Hanchett had sworn life and limb to the service of Urthfist, and to suggest that his master had wrongly seized the throne and would employ force of arms to keep it for himself ... Monty could not have offended Hanchett more deeply if he'd been trying. The otter Skipper quickly stood and backed toward the door, not daring to turn his back on the prisoner. The hare's muscles were tensing as if for battle, and Monty was afraid Hanchett might spring at him. Strong as he was, Monty didn't relish the idea of a tussle with an enraged hare of the Salamandastron Long Patrols.

Struggling to keep his voice calm, Monty banged on the inside of the cell door. "Yo, Brydon, Rumter! Open her up, I'm comin' out!"

The latch clicked with the turn of the key and the door opened. Monty stumbled out into the tunnel. Before the two younger otters could slam the door shut again, the hare leapt at the opening, but halted at the threshold when he saw the knot of armed beasts in the corridor beyond. Urthblood's shrews in particular looked as if they would welcome a go at him, their shortswords raised to meet an attack.

Hanchett stared past them at Montybank. "You think what you want, otter. But if you ever get the chance someday to talk to a hare named Traveller, ask him what Urthblood's been up to in the north. Then come back and tell me if you think Lord Urthfist is concerned only for himself." Hanchett turned and went back to his bedding and sat down heavily, ignoring the rest of the food. Rumter and Brydon secured the door, locking the hare safely within the cell.

"I say, Skip, wot was that all about? Are you okay? You look a tad shaky."

"Huh? Oh, I'm fine. Never better! Uh, you just keep a close watch on that hare. An' I'll see about sendin' some relief down. Mebbe Turoh and Wink can spell you until mornin'." Monty hurried off down the tunnel, leaving the two otters and Urthblood's five shrews to carry on their vigil. Abbess Vanessa was awaiting his report, and he would only be able to tell her that things had not gone as smoothly as they'd hoped.

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When Cyril awoke, the white light of the three-quarter moon was shining into his eyes through the Infirmary window. He sat up with a start, realizing he'd fallen asleep on the bed next to Jans and Broggen's. Cyril flung aside the blanket that somebeast, probably Jans, had thrown over him. The young mouse stood and smoothed out his rumpled habit, his face flushed with embarrassment. He'd nodded off and had to be tucked in like an infant dormouse, and by the very warrior he'd wanted most to impress! These two Northlanders had been the only creatures who'd taken seriously his desire to be a warrior, and now he'd gone and made a silly fool of himself in front of them. Now they'd just laugh at him like all the others.

Cyril quietly slipped off his sandals. Holding them in one paw, he tiptoed across the floor and out of the Infirmary. The chained companions both appeared to be in deep slumber, and Cyril wanted to make his exit without rousing them. He'd be mortified to have to face them now, after what had happened.

He made his way through the darkened Abbey toward the room he shared with Cyrus, but when he reached it he kept on going, down the stairs to Great Hall. He didn't want to climb into the bed he'd slept in since coming to Redwall as a small mousechild, not tonight. The same restlessness that had made him seek out Jans and Broggen in the Infirmary was still upon him. Yesterday he'd wielded the sword of a warrior, and been complimented by other warriors. Even if it was only play fighting, he'd tasted a life that had never been open to him before. The bed of a bellringer child no longer held much attraction for him.

The moonlight was brighter in Great Hall, streaming through the stained glass windows that turned the pale shafts all colors against the sandstone floor. Cyril wandered over to the tapestry, stopping before it. The image of Martin the Warrior stood out clearly, even in the wan illumination. Nobeast was about; all his fellow Abbeybeasts must have been tired out from the excitement of the hare's arrival the previous day, and fast asleep in their beds, except for the night watch out on the walltop.

It was then that Cyril did something he'd never done before: he spoke to the woven image of Redwall's founding warrior.

"What should I do, Martin? I can't help the feelings inside me ... I don't want to be just a bellringer anymore. I can't be. Somebeast will have to take up your sword in the crisis to come and become the next champion of Redwall. I know I could do it, but no one here will take me seriously! How can I prove myself to them? What would you have done in my place?"

The mouse in the tapestry made no reply.

Cyril shrugged and turned away. He didn't feel the least bit sleepy, so he walked toward the door that led out from Great Hall to the Abbey grounds and the warm summer night, his sandals still dangling from one paw.

He was taken somewhat off guard to see a wash of light coming from the steps down to the lawn. Winokur sat upon the top step, one of the archive journals open upon his lap, a small lantern flickering dimly at his side. But the young otter was gazing up toward the west ramparts. It took him a moment to tear his attention away from the walltop and acknowledge the mouse who'd intruded upon his solitary readings.

"Oh, hello, Cyril. Brought me some sandals? Sorry, I don't wear them."

Cyril was surprised to encounter Winokur in such an odd place at this late hour. Wink had been spending most of his time these days with his father Warnokur, outside amongst Urthblood's otters.

"Uh, no, these are mine," Cyril said, clumsily slipping his sandals back onto his feet. "What are you doing here?"

"I could ask you the same question, but I won't. Actually, I came out to enjoy the night's peace and calm while I caught up on my reading, but there've been some distractions."

"Sorry. I didn't mean to disturb you."

"Oh, not you, Cyr." Winokur returned his gaze to the walltop. "Urthblood is talking to his birds again."

Cyril followed Winokur's gaze. Sure enough, the badger warrior stood high upon the westrn ramparts, his huge bulk and burnished armor distinct in the moonlight. A feathered giant sat alongside him on the battlements, and the two creature seemed to be conferring.

"Is that an owl?" Cyril asked.

"Looks like it. Urthblood's been standing up there most of the night, waiting for it, apparently. It just flew down a minute ago."

"Oh." Cyril didn't know what else to say. "Um, what time is it?"

"I'm not sure. Well past midnight and halfway toward dawn, I should imagine."

"Did Lord Urthblood ever get around to questioning that hare? He seemed so determined that it be done right away, but then he suddenly got busy with other things." Cyril remembered that Winokur had been among the first Redwallers to gather around Hanchett when Jans and Broggen escorted the hare into the Abbey. And with his father Warnokur being a part of the Badger Lord's army, Wink was surely more informed about the situation than Cyril was.

But Winokur simply said, rather cryptically, "It would seem he's had a change of priorities. Something's happening, something big. I felt it in the army when I was outside this afternoon, after that hare was put down in the cellars. Urthblood's been meeting with all his captains. I think that what happened today is more important than we realize."

"Do you think Hanchett really is from Salamandastron?"

"I just don't know, Cyril. But Lord Urthblood's acting almost like it doesn't matter one way or the other. It's as if things have moved beyond that now. I have a feeling that events are going to be moving rapidly from now on."

"I don't understand."

"You're not alone."

The owl spread its wings and launched itself from the wall, beating its way north in the night sky. Urthblood descended the wall stairs and made straight for the south wallgate, bidding the otter guards to let him out of the Abbey.

"This should be interesting," Winokur said, setting aside his journal and rising from his seat on the warm stone step. "Let's go see what's up out there."

Cyril and Winokur jogged across the lawns and scampered up the south wall stairs. From there the ramparts afforded a panoramic moon-washed vista of the soldier-strewn meadow. Urthblood roused one of his swordfoxes, who went to wake a rat officer while the badger moved on to others. Soon the meadow was alive with stirring fighters, coming awake wraithlike in the pale moonglow.

"And now it starts," Winokur murmured.

"What starts?" Cyril asked.

"What indeed. We'll find out tomorrow, I suppose." Winokur rubbed at his eyes. "Well, I've been up longer'n any otter oughtta be. I'm gonna go get some sleep. G'night, Cyril."

Cyril remained on the walltop after Winokur departed, staring down at the mobilizing army. For his own part, he very much doubted he'd be getting anymore sleep this night.


	12. Chapter 23

THE CRIMSON BADGER - Chapter Twenty-Three

The arrival of the hare had cast a whole new light over all the recent happenings at Redwall. Enough of the Abbeydwellers had witnessed Hanchett's confrontation with Urthblood to put the gossip mills in full swing. That evening, before the Abbey had settled down for the night, the less adventurous Redwallers whispered to one another that it had been a mistake to open their home and sanctuary to Urthblood and his army. To have such creatures camped outside their walls day and night, and now being allowed inside in large groups as well ... rats, weasels, ferrets and stoats, not to mention Machus and his swordfoxes. Nervously these timid souls verified each others' apprehension: that the badger warrior could take over Redwall with but a word to his captains. A small minority even shared Friar Hugh's assessment that Urthblood had already conquered the Abbey, and that the Abbess and her defenders simply did not realize it yet.

Spurred on by these fears, the Brothers and Sisters were quick to forget all the work Urthblood's troops had put into building friendships with the creatures of Redwall. The friendly jousts between the Abbey defenders and Urthblood's woodlanders, tales and jokes shared over flagons of October ale, the budding sense of comraderie in many quarters - all was banished from memory by Hanchett's dire accusations. It was easy to overlook the fact that this force of Northlanders included a great many outgoing goodbeasts when there were so many vermin bathing in the pond and strolling freely about the Abbey grounds. The mice, shrews, otters, hedgehogs and moles of Urthblood's army became irrelevant. All that mattered were the vermin and foxes, the traditional sworn enemies of Redwall. The pall of suspicion and mistrust that had hung over the Abbey during the first days of this army's arrival quickly reasserted itself, and for the remainder of that day many did not venture outdoors except in groups, hesitant to go alone.

Even Vanessa and Arlyn were struck by doubts, which was why they'd sent Montybank down to sound out Hanchett on his own. Monty had come away from that venture convinced that Hanchett's hatred of Urthblood might not be entirely rational, and said as much to the Abbot and Abbess. The otter Skipper was not the only one to take the hare's words with a healthy grain of salt; Maura had developed a respectful fondness for the grim Badger Lord, the two Foremoles had become fast friends, and Alexander absolutely cherished Lady Mina. Add in Monty's high regard for Captain Saybrook and the Northland otters, as well as everybeast's friendship with the mouse captain Abellon, and there was no question of risking these newfound alliances over the ranting of one hare who may or may not have actually been from Salamandastron.

Of course, it would have greatly eased their misgivings if Urthblood had addressed the matter head-on and joined them in questioning their captive further, instead of storming outside without explanation. The Abbey leaders went to bed that night filled with more trepidation than they cared to admit.

The situation was not helped any by Urthblood's midnight meeting with the owl up on the walltop, or his mobilization of his troops. The Redwall sentries on the ramparts made sure to monitor these events closely, but refrained from rousing the Abbess from her slumbers. After all, nothing could happen as long as all the Northlanders were outside, could it?

As dawn approached, and it became increasingly apparent that the badger warrior was making his army ready to march, Lady Mina came to the south wallgate, asking for admittance so that she could seek out Alexander. The otter guard allowed her through without hesitation, but was sure to lock the door again once she was inside. One of the walltop squirrel sentries decided it was finally time to alert Vanessa and the other Abbey leaders, and bounded down the wallsteps to spread the early wake-up call.

The Abbess had been sleeping lightly in her private bedroom and was on her paws with the first soft rap on her chamber door. In no time at all she was following the messenger down the stairs and out onto the lawns.

What she found waiting for her there was a surprise, and not an entirely comforting one.

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There were foxes in the Abbey. And they were armed.

Machus and his entire brigade stood on the wet predawn south lawn, just inside the wallgate. Urthblood stood impassively alongside them, while the Redwall otters paced back and forth, openly at a loss as to what they should be doing.

Abbess Vanessa gave Lord Urthblood a brusque nod as she approached, but first took aside the otter guard in charge. "Gadden, what are these foxes doing in here with their swords?"

"Um ... Lord Urthblood said we hadta let 'em in," the otter weakly explained. "Said t'was important."

"So you just let them in?" she demanded.

Gadden shrugged helplessly. "'m sorry, Abbess. I knew I wasn't s'posed to, but ... well, he just made it sound like we had to."

"I see." Vanessa swung her gaze sharply toward the hulking, impassive badger, his expression as stony as ever. "We had an agreement, My Lord. None of your soldiers were to be allowed inside Redwall without first relinquishing their arms."

"The situation has changed, Abbess."

"Oh, really? Then why was I not informed of this fact? Or is it your custom to break agreements without first consulting with your allies?"

"I apologize if my actions appear presumptuous. But when you agreed to accept my help in improving Redwall's defenses, I assumed I would have the freedom to act upon my warrior's expertise when I felt it was needed. I have assigned Machus and his foxes to help with the defense of this Abbey. And they can hardly be expected to do this without their blades."

"You've ... assigned ... them?" Vanessa echoed in disbelief. "And why would you feel such a thing was necessary?"

"As I have said - to help defend Redwall."

"From whom?'

"My brother."

Vanessa stared at Urthblood, not sure she'd heard right. "My Lord, perhaps it is time for you to tell me just what is going on here."

"I have had a vision this night. The kind of vision I have only experienced a very few times in all my seasons. I do not doubt its truthfulness, and it is an omen not to be disregarded."

"And what did this vision tell you?" Vanessa asked breathlessly.

"That circumstances at Salamandastron have deteriorated during my absence there ... and that the first phase of the great crisis might come from the most unexpected place of all."

Urthblood spoke with such assurance and finality that Vanessa momentarily felt as if events were spinning out of control, beyond her ability to influence or guide. The feeling passed quickly, but left her filled with disquiet. "Please explain further, My Lord. Are you saying that Salamandastron might now be an enemy to Redwall?"

"It is too soon to say, Abbess. But it is no secret that the Badger Lords of Salamandastron have suffered greatly at the paws of vermin over the generations. Many have met their doom in battles with searats and corsairs and vermin hordes. I did not consult with my brother Urthfist before I began taking vermin into my service, and did not concern him in my Northlands campaigns. I see now that this may have been a grave mistake. My brother has always harbored a deep and abiding hatred of vermin, due mainly to our troubles with the searats. Several good hares were slain during our youth, when we ruled the mountain jointly. Urthfist must have been following my activities in the Northlands with his hares - indeed, I sometimes received reports of hares in my vicinity, who would always fade back and go to ground when we sought to establish contact with them. Never did I imagine that they might be from the Long Patrol, sent by my brother to spy on me. If only one of them had come forward so that I could explain ... "

"But, if his hares have been seeing all the good you've been doing in the Northlands ... "

Urthfist shook his head sadly. "Apparently, they have seen only the vermin, and not what I am doing with them. The hares of the Long Patrol hold no love for vermin either, and would not expose themselves to those they see as enemies. My brother has lived in isolation for too long, with his hares as his only link to the world outside Salamandastron, and the threat of Tratton's searats eating away at his peace of mind. This, I fear, may have tipped him over into full-fledged insanity."

Vanessa's eyes went wide. "You saw all this? In your vision?"

"The general shapes of these matters," Urthblood nodded, "if not their substance. Visions are imprecise things."

"Just like your prophecy," Vanessa remarked, then hoped she hadn't sounded too skeptical. After all, if this was all true ... "So, what is to be done now?"

"A madbeast cannot be allowed to remain on the throne of the mountain. That would be a disaster for all the lands. I must travel to Salamandastron and judge the situation for myself. Then I will take appropriate action."

"And if he resists?"

"Do not forget, Abbess, that I am the older brother. The throne of Salamandastron is rightfully mine whenever I care to assert the claim. If Urthfist tries to keep the Lordship of the mountain for his own, that in itself will demonstrate his unworthiness for that position. If I become convinced that my brother is unfit to be Lord of Salamandastron, I will remove him. By whatever means necessary."

"Are you speaking of war?" Vanessa breathed. "Between Badger Lords?"

"I pray it does not come to that, Abbess. The lands have never witnessed such a conflict, and the outcome would be catastophic, no matter which side prevails. But, if my brother has turned down the path or evil or insanity, I will not shy away from doing what must be done."

Vanessa and the otters around her were light on their footpaws, woozy with the enormity of these revelations. She heard somebeast approaching from behind her and turned to see Alexander and Lady Mina striding across the morning-dewed grass. "Mina has filled me in," Alex informed Vanessa. "I never thought I'd live to see something like this."

"Nor I." Vanessa turned back to Urthblood. "When do you plan to leave, My Lord?"

"This very day. By noontide, if possible."

Vanessa looked confused. "But, then why are you sending your foxes into Redwall?"

"My brother may have been swayed in his thinking by lies spread by my enemies in the Northlands. Perhaps he believes I am guilty of evils which have never taken place. If that is the case, then I must meet with him and convince him otherwise. But if the worst has happened, and he truly has gone mad, then he is most dangerous, and will not be content until he faces me in battle. He knows I am at Redwall, and he may well come looking for me, and bring trouble to your door even if I am not here. It could happen that while I travel to Salamandastron, Urthfist will set out for Redwall along a different route, and we would miss each other. If he shows up here and proves unreasonable, I would not leave you shortpawed in your defenses."

"Surely he would not attack us?" Vanessa declared. "Even if he has gone mad, he could not convince his hares to fight against Redwall."

"He has had twenty seasons of mastery over the Long Patrol to sway them to his way of thinking. He could have corrupted them. Their first loyalty would be to him. There is no telling what might happen. They would certainly fight me, if Hanchett's behavior is any indication. And they may pose a danger to you as well, if he suspects you of being my allies. Machus will remain here with his fox guard, along with a score or two of my other fighters. They will help you defend your home, if it should come to that."

"Yes, but ... your foxes? Why not some of your otters, or mice, or hedgehogs?"

Machus stood aloof several paces away, pretending not to be offended.

"The force may include some of those beasts as well," Urthblood replied. "I must take with me the ones who would be the most help to me if I should meet my brother on the journey, or if I have to fight him at Salamandastron. And I must leave here those who would be the most use to you in defending your Abbey. You have many fine archerbeasts at Redwall, but if an enemy should force its way past your gates, you will find Machus and his foxes most effective at dispatching them."

"Yes, but ... "

"Nessa," Alexander urged softly. "We should agree to this."

Vanessa studied her old squirrel friend. Was he trying to tell her something? Or had Lady Mina swayed him before they'd come out here? Either way, he knew more about defending Redwall than she did, and if he felt confident enough about this course of action to openly endorse it, she would trust his judgement in the matter.

"We accept your offer of help, Lord, and thank you for it," she said to the badger warrior. "Is there anything we can provide you in the way of food or supplies? You have given us very little notice, but we might still be able to assist you with this."

"You are most gracious, as always," Urthblood said in his never-changing rumble, "and I will welcome any extra foodstuffs you can spare. We will also need to refill our canteens and water pouches one last time from your pond. Anything beyond that would only weigh us down. We must travel light if we hope to make good time."

Vanessa glanced up. The sky was brightening from gray to blue; the sun would soon be risen. "Friar Hugh is probably awake by now. I'll go tell him to skip breakfast and work on preparing provisions that are suitable for marching beasts."

"I must ask one more thing of you, Abbess," Urthblood said. "It is most important. The hare, Hanchett - I must insist that you hold him here for another ten days."

"Ten days?" Vanessa pursed her lips uncertainly. "That is a long time to deny anybeast its freedom."

"I would not ask this of you if I did not think it was necessary," said Urthblood. "Better for him to lose ten days than for honest creatures to lose their lives due to mischief that hare might cause if he is released too early. The path I have chosen to Salamandastron will take us south along the main road for three days, to come out of Mossflower below the mountains that separate the plains from the coastlands. Once there, we will turn west and travel for several more days until we reach the coast, and then head north to Salamandastron. It will be a long journey, and an army cannot travel as fast as a single hare. If Hanchett is let loose and gets back to my brother with reports of my whereabouts, my soldiers will be placed in jeopardy, since we could be ambushed at any time. I trust I have impressed upon you the importance of keeping Hanchett confined within Redwall, even if the task is odious to you."

Vanessa weighed what she had just been told. "When you describe the situation in those terms, ten days does not seem too much time to ask. Perhaps we can find more comfortable quarters for Hanchett to make him feel less a prisoner, but where he can still be safely confined. When he is finally allowed to leave Redwall, I do not want him to be able to say he was mistreated in any way during his time here."

"Very good. Machus will of course help you with guarding Hanchett. Hares of the Long Patrol are formidable fighters, and if Hanchett should try to escape, you may need extra experienced paws to contain him."

Vanessa thought about how Machus and his swordfoxes had never displayed their skills, in spite of their fearsome reputation. "I'm sure our squirrels and otters will be able to manage that job quite well on their own, My Lord."

"As you say." Urthblood looked to Machus. "Alexander and Montybank will tell you how to best deploy your forces here to augment the Abbey defenders. I will finish choosing the other troops who will stay with you here at Redwall, and send them in presently. I trust that will be all right with you, Abbess?"

"Uh, yes, of course. Just have them ... " Vanessa was about to say that they should have their weapons checked at the wallgate, but of course these troops would be armed, and expect to stay that way, even in the Abbey. How things could change in one day! "Just have them come on in, when they're ready."

"If you will excuse me." Urthblood turned and headed back out the wallgate without further discussion, Lady Mina following behind him. The Abbess shook her head, looked to Machus, and started toward the main Abbey building to find Friar Hugh. Alexander and the swordfoxes fell into step alongside her. Vanessa glanced back at Machus again. His face, usually unreadable, showed an undisguised disappointment. It occurred to Vanessa for the first time that he might not have been any happier about being ordered to stay behind at Redwall than she was having him here.

Alex called for her attention then. "Vanessa, there's something I have to talk to you about. As soon as you can possibly spare a moment."

"First things first. I have to tell Friar Hugh to get started on those provisions for Lord Urthblood, so that they'll be ready by noon."

"Yes, well, you might want to tell him when you find him to throw in enough food for one extra beast."

Vanessa stopped dead in her tracks, staring at her squirrel friend. The swordfoxes ground to a halt as well. Alexander's meaning was clear.

"Yes, we do have something to talk about, don't we? Go on up to my study. I'll join you there as soon as I can."

"Okay. Um, where do you want these foxes, Nessa?"

She looked at Machus, who returned her gaze with a perfectly neutral one of his own. So many things to think about at once!

At last she waved a paw skyward. "Oh, put them up on the walltop. They'll have a very nice view of the sunrise from up there."

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Vanessa finished with Hugh in the kitchens as quickly as she could, bidding the good Friar to put his all into the effort. The gaunt mouse scowled a bit at the imposition, but beneath that facade Vanessa could sense his relief that Urthblood's horde - most of it, anyway - would soon be away from Redwall. Hugh promised he would do his best, and set about his labors at once.

"But what about breakfast?" Sister Aurelia worried.

"We have enough stored fruits, nuts, cheeses, wafers and biscuits that can be set out without preparation," Hugh assured her. "We'll have a very simple breakfast, and lunch too, so that we can concentrate on the task of supplying Urthblood's departing troops. If they want to be away from the Abbey by noon, by the seasons we'll make sure they don't leave with empty packs!"

"I'll send some of the other Brothers and Sisters down to help," Vanessa told them, and strode out into Great Hall. There she met Monty, who was pacing about with javelin in paw and a small cadre of otters by his side.

"Ahoy, Nessa! Wot's with all them foxes up on th' ramparts? Got their swords with 'em ... "

"It's all right, Monty. They have my leave to be armed within the Abbey. There have been some, ah, developments during the night. Lord Urthblood is departing for Salamandastron right away, and he's asked to leave some of his forces behind to help defend Redwall. There's a very good reason for it, trust me. I'll fill you in later ... "

"Yes, but ... all foxes?"

"There will be some woodlanders included in the force as well. Or so Lord Urthblood has assured me. But for now I need your help with a more immediate concern. All of the Northlanders who are going with Urthblood will need to fill up their canteens. They will have to be let into the Abbey so they can have access to the pond ... there's no time to organize another bucket brigade to carry water out to them. Please see to this, Monty. I'll want your otters overseeing this endeavor. I know some of them have been standing watch all night, but you'll probably need all of them to keep order. They'll have plenty of time to catch up on their sleep once Urthblood is gone."

"Aye. Tho', there's still gonna be some foxes an' mebbe some others fer us t' keep an eye on even after that big brute's left us." Monty gave a nod. "I'll see to th' water dispensin' straightaways, Nessa. No worries, we'll take care of it right 'n' proper."

"Thank you, Monty. I have to go speak with Alexander now. He apparently has some foolish notion in his head, and my job now is to remove it."

00000000000

The sounds and commotion of so many beasts preparing for a long march carried over the wall and through the dormitory windows. Winokur awoke even as the sun cleared the eastern treetops of Mossflower. He'd gotten very little sleep due to the late hours he'd kept the night before, reading up on the histories and watching Urthblood with his owl and his army. But slumber could not contain him, not with the excitement of these events swirling around him. For one thing, the young otter's father was a member of Urthblood's army, and would be part of whatever was afoot. For another, Winokur had a very definite idea about what part he himself might have to play in these matters, and if events unfolded as he suspected they might, he would have to speak with the Abbess right away.

He rolled out of bed, pulled on his jerkin, and went down the hallway to the chamber of Brother Joel, the Abbey's lantern and torch keeper. Joel was the burliest and tallest mouse living at Redwall, and Winokur had a favor to ask of Joel.

Joel answered the knock immediately, having been roused himself by the brightening sky and the army's noise. "Oh, good morning, Wink. Is there something I can help you with?"

"Yes, Brother. Do happen to have a spare habit I can borrow?"


	13. Chapter 24

THE CRIMSON BADGER - Chapter Twenty-Four

By the time Vanessa reached her study, she found both Alexander and Arlyn waiting for her. "Good morning, Arlyn," she nodded to the retired Abbot as she crossed to stand behind her desk. "I gather Alex has brought you up to date on events?"

"Him, and a few of the others I met on my way in here," said Arlyn. "Having a score of swordfoxes trooping up the wallsteps outside my cottage door was enough to end my sleep for this night. So, it appears we will no longer be having Lord Urthblood as our guest."

"Or most of his soldiers," Vanessa nodded. "However, it seems there's a certain squirrel who desires to join them when they leave ... "

Arlyn turned in his chair to regard the chief of the Mossflower Patrol. "Is this true, Alexander?"

"We've offered Lord Urthblood food and supplies from Redwall, but nothing in the way of our greatest asset: ourselves. I hazard to guess that more than one Abbeybeast would like to march alongside him to Salamandastron, to lend our services in peace or war."

"Correct me if I'm wrong," Arlyn observed wryly, "but weren't you one of Urthblood's biggest critics when he and his army first came to Redwall?"

"Lady Mina will be going with Urthblood to Salamandastron," said Alex. "My place is alongside her."

"No, your place is here," Vanessa corrected him. "We'll need every available defender on our walls in case Lord Urthblood's fears about his brother prove correct. Least of all can we spare our best archer."

"But you'll have Machus and his swordfoxes to lend a paw here."

"Maybe that's all the more reason to keep all our own defenders here," said Arlyn.

Alexander looked at the old mouse. "You still don't trust Machus, even after Maura spoke up for him?"

Arlyn sighed. "Let's just say there's a big difference between having a few of those foxes within our walls unarmed, and having all of them on our walls with their swords at their sides."

"Urthblood trusts him, Lady Mina trusts him, Maura trusts him ... and I think we should too."

"The matter of Machus is beside the point," said Vanessa. "This isn't about him - it's about you going to Salamandastron with Urthblood. And if, fur forbid, this does turn into a war between Badger Lords, that is not our fight. I don't want any Redwallers involving themselves in this."

"Redwallers are already a part of Urthblood's army," Alex said.

Vanessa pursed her lips. "Ah, yes. Warnokur. Which raises the question of what I will do if Winokur wants to join his father on this march, which he very well might. I'll cross that bridge when I get to it."

Alex was shaking his head. "I wasn't talking about Wink. I meant Lady Mina herself."

"What?" Vanessa and Arlyn asked as one.

"Mina and I have talked at great length about the history of the Gawtrybe. As you know, they were tamed and taught their great archery skills by the son of Lady Amber, who lived at Redwall during the time of Martin and Abbess Germaine. Every chieftain of the Gawtrybe since then has been a direct descendant of Amber's son Alexander ... Mina herself is the great-great-great-and-so-forth granddaughter of a Redwaller. And they have never forgotten that heritage, even if we were unaware of it ourselves. For all I know, Mina and I could be directly related. So you see, some of our kin are already marching with Urthblood. There's no reason why I shouldn't go too."

Arlyn shook his head in admiration of Alexander's line of reasoning. "And you're sure your personal feelings for Lady Mina have nothing to do with your sudden wanderlust?"

The pink inside Alex's ears deepened a shade or two. "She's an honorable beast, and so am I. We'd make quite a pair ... in battle, or in other ways."

"Romantic yearnings cannot be used as a justification for letting any Redwaller go into danger," Vanessa said firmly. "And as for your other argument, Alex, well, I'm afraid you stretched the point too far. Simply because a Redwall squirrel once went to the Northlands and married into the Gawtrybe, it does not make them Redwallers. That happened more generations ago than anybeast can count, and there has been no contact between them and us from that day to this. The Gawtrybe have allied themselves with Urthblood, and that is fine for them. But again, his fight is not ours. I'm sorry, Alex, but I cannot give you leave to go with them."

Alex opened his mouth, then closed it again, emotions churning in his eyes. "You know, I could go anyway."

"Yes, you could," Vanessa said levelly. "And then I would think much less highly of you than I do now. It might even make me wonder how seriously you take being a Redwaller."

These words clearly stung. "Please, Nessa," he implored. "Nothing has ever been as important to me as this."

"Maybe so," Vanessa stoically folded her paws before her, "but my decision stands. If you accompany Mina to Salamandastron, it will be against the wishes of your Abbess."

"Then I have a very hard decision to make," Alexander said, turning to leave the study. As he opened the door, he found Winokur standing in the corridor beyond, a ball of fabric tucked under one paw and the other raised to knock.

"Oh, hello, Alexander sir," the young otter said, surprised. "Um, is the Abbess available?"

"Be my guest," Alex said coolly, and stalked past Winokur down the hallway. Wink looked after him in puzzlement, then stepped into the study.

"Uh, Abbot, Abbess? Might I be able to have a few minutes of your time?"

"Of course, Winokur," Vanessa put on a smile for the youngbeast's benefit. "Although I have a feeling I know why you're here. Please close the door and come on in."

Wink did as bidden, then came forward to stand alongside the seated Abbot before Vanessa's desk. "Mother Abbess, I'd like permission to travel with Lord Urthblood to Salamandastron."

Vanessa and Arlyn traded glances. "Yes, that's what I'd thought," said Vanessa. "Alexander just asked for the same thing, and I denied him. But he has lived at Redwall for many seasons longer than you have, and is one of the chief Abbey defenders. You are young, but not a child. You have never enrolled as a novice of the order, despite your knowledge of Redwall lore. But most important of all, you have what nobeast else at Redwall can claim: a father who is an actual soldier in Lord Urthblood's army. And family ties like those trump my authority as Abbess. If it is your desire to accompany Warnokur to Salamandastron and fight under Urthblood's banner, I will not seek to dissuade you."

Winokur was silent for some moments, digesting what Vanessa had said. "Abbess, I do wish to travel with Lord Urthblood when he faces his brother ... but not to fight." He removed his jerkin, casting it aside on an empty chair, and unrolled the bundle he was carrying. The shape of the fabric was unclear, until Winokur pulled it over his head and the two mice realized it was a habit.

"I wish to be made a full novice of the Redwall order," Winokur continued, standing before them in the ill-fitting garment. "I wish to go to Salamandastron as a full-fledged representative of this Abbey, one who can serve as a mediator if the chance for peace should show itself."

Vanessa and Arlyn were surprised almost beyond words. "What brought this on?" the Abbess asked.

"I was right there when Hanchett was brought into the Abbey yesterday," said Winokur. "I felt right away that he was telling the truth, or the truth as far as he believed it. Lord Urthfist and the Long Patrol view Urthblood as an enemy. Now, I've been helping Brother Geoff read through the histories, and to the best of my knowledge, no Badger Lord has ever been defeated in war. A few have been slain in battle, but Salamandastron has never fallen to an enemy. For two such creatures to go to war ... " He shook his head. "It would be catastrophic. We can't allow it to happen, if we can possibly prevent it. Redwall has always stood for peace. Maybe this is all just some great big misunderstanding between Urthblood and Urthfist, but even if it is, both sides might be so busy gearing up for war that they'd miss an opportunity for peace if it came along. Somebeast needs to be right there in the thick of things to act as a mediator at a moment's notice. Somebeast neutral, like a beast of the Redwall order. If we can send one peacemaker to stop a war, that would mean more than a thousand warriors."

"Yes, it would," Vanessa agreed. "But you would be exposing yourself to great danger."

"No greater than if I went to fight for Lord Urthblood alongside my Dad ... which you were willing to allow me to do a few moments ago."

Vanessa smiled. "So I was. But I hardly think you've chosen the proper uniform for playing peacemaker." She came around the desk to examine the young otter's raiments, and had to stifle a chuckle. The habit only came down to Winokur's knees, and was uncomfortably tight. "Wherever did you get these robes?"

"From Brother Joel. He's the biggest mouse at Redwall, and since there are no otters in the order, I figured he'd have the habit that would be most likely to fit me."

"Still a few sizes too small," Vanessa assessed, then disappeared into her adjoining bedroom. "Wait there a moment, I'll be right back ... "

When she returned, she carried with her a cloth bundle of her own. She held it out to Winokur. "Here, try this on for size. It may be a bit musty, but I think you'll find it to your liking."

Wink pulled off Joel's tight-fitting habit and put on the new one Vanessa had given him. To his amazement, it came almost down to his footpaws, and was not nearly as tight as Joel's robes had been. "Abbess, wherever did you find this?"

"It's an old relic I found stored away when I became Abbess. It belonged to Abbess Mhera, an otter herself. Fortunately, we seem to have successfully kept the moths away from it over the seasons. I must say, it fits you well. Good thing you're not as burly and well-fed as some of the otters around here!"

"So, does that mean you'll let me go?"

Vanessa beamed at the young otter. "With my full blessing. As of now, you are officially a novice of the Redwall order!"

Winokur grinned back at her. "Now all I hafta do is figure out how I'm gonna tell my Dad that I'll be going with him, but it won't be to fight alongside him."

"We'll talk to him if you want," said Arlyn. "Vanessa and I can be very convincing when it comes to making beasts see what's important."

00000000000

Cyril's sleep cycle was totally off kilter.

After falling asleep in the Infirmary with Jans and Broggen, and then staying up for most of the night on the walltop watching Urthblood's army mobilizing, the novice mouse drifted off again in the hour before dawn. But Cyril came awake promptly when the Badger Lord entered the Abbey with his swordfoxes, and announced his imminent departure to Vanessa - all of which happened almost directly beneath the spot where Cyril was stationed.

As Machus and his foxes ascended the west wallsteps, Cyril was flashing down the south stairs. Urthblood was back outside by this time, and the Abbess had hurried off to find Friar Hugh, so the grounds were virtually abandoned at this early hour. The young mouse raced across the lawns and into the Abbey, following in Vanessa's pawsteps. Instead of heading for the kitchens, however, Cyril scurried up the stairs to the second floor, haring down the corridor there to the Infirmary.

When he arrived, he found Jans and Broggen already on their feet, making ready to leave the sickbay. Cyril rushed over to them, surprised to see them up so early.

"Jans! Broggen! Lord Urthblood says he's going to be leaving for Salamandastron by noon today!"

"Aye," Jans nodded, "Lady Mina was just up here to inform us. Looks like our comfy times here are over. We gotta report for duty down in the meadow right away."

"Lord Urthblood's gonna leave Machus and the foxes here at Redwall," Cyril reported, to the obvious surprise of the two Northlanders; apparently this was one detail Lady Mina had neglected to mention to the chained mouse and stoat duo. "And I heard him telling the Abbess that he'll pick another score or two to stay behind with them. Is there any way you can convince Lord Urthblood to let the two of you be among the ones who stay?"

Jans and Broggen traded glances. "Cyril," the mouse fighter said gently, "I know you've grown fond of us an' you'd like fer us to stay, but it's our duty to march into battle with Lord Urtblood. We're his soldiers. We'll stay behind at Redwall if he orders us to, but we won't be happy about it."

Cyril's face fell. "I ... I never thought about it that way. I thought you'd want to stay because that's what I wanted. I guess there's more to being a warrior than I realized."

"Honor, duty, responsibility - Lord Urthblood expects a lot from his troops," said Jans. "He relies on us to win his battles, even if he's the one who plans them and is out in front leading the charge. If it's any consolation, we're quite fond o' you too, and I woulda liked bein' around to train you some more. You've got warrior's potential, Cyril lad. I hope you find somebeast to help bring it out to its fullest."

Cyril pawed at his lip in thought. "Yes, but, if you and Broggen are two of Urthblood's best fighters, maybe he will want you to stay here to help defend the Abbey. After all, Machus and his foxes are staying here, and everybeast says they're the best of them all."

"Yeah, that's true," Jans admitted. "Tell ya what. Broggs an' I hafta go report now. If Lord Urthblood assigns us to Redwall, we'll come right back in an' let ya know. An if not, you be sure t'come down an' see us off, right? It's always good luck havin' a goodbeast sending you off when you might be marchin' to war. I'd appreciate havin' your luck on me"

"Me too," Broggen seconded. "Never had too many mice thinkin' of me like a friend."

"Okay," Cyril gave a firm nod. "You'll see me again before you leave. I promise."

"That's th' spirit!" Jans patted Cyril on the back. "Now, how's about escortin' us down to the meadow? That'd get this day off to a good start, eh?"

"Okay." Feeling special, the way he did lately whenever anybeast took him seriously, Cyril proudly led the two seasoned campaigners down through the Abbey and out to the lawns.

00000000000

The beasts of Urthblood's army worked through the morning, preparing for the march to Salamandastron. And many Redwallers toiled along with them, not least of all Friar Hugh and his kitchen staff. Ignoring the shortages caused by the storm damage to the gardens and by so many extra mouths staying at the Abbey, he dug deep into the larders and stores to come up with enough drystuffs to see the army on its way. At the Abbess's insistence, the plump little mice of Redwall would just have to tighten their habit cords for a season or three until the inventories could be replenished.

It was midmorning, and Urthblood was consulting with Machus just inside the south wallgate as to which creatures of his forces would stay behind at the Abbey with the swordfoxes. This conversation tapered off to silence as Alexander and Lady Mina approached and stopped before them. "Excuse me, My Lord, but there is something I must discuss with you," the Gawtrybe squirrel announced.

Urthblood turned from his swordfox commander to address Mina. "Yes, what is it?"

"Lord, I request permission to remain here at Redwall with Machus and his force."

"Oh? Why?"

"My skills are in archery, not field combat," Mina said, while Alex remained silent at her side. "I would be better used on the walltop of this Abbey than where you are going. You will need paw-to-paw fighters to match your brother's hares, not long-range archers. But that is what Redwall will need most if trouble comes, since they will have to hold off attackers from the heights of their battlements."

Urthblood's gaze went from Mina to Alexander and back again. "Your request is denied."

"My Lord - "

"My brother may well have archerbeasts of his own among the hares of the Long Patrol. And you seem to be forgetting that I might gain Salamandastron and then have to hold it against my brother, or searat hordes ... or both. In such a case I will need every archer I can get - you most of all. Redwall has the entire Mossflower Patrol to hold its walls."

Mina swallowed. "Then, Lord, I must respectfully resign from this campaign."

Machus stared at the two squirrels in disbelief, while Alex shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot. Urthblood regarded the squirrel Lady with cool calm. "I know why you ask this, Mina. If Alexander means that much to you, he will accompany us on the march to Salamandastron."

Alex shook his head. "I may not go, My Lord. I asked Abbess Vanessa for leave to go with you, and she refused."

"Aha. So you will not go against the word of your Abbess," the badger warrior turned to Mina, "but you will disobey the Lord to whom you and all the Gawtrybe have sworn allegiance, and resign from one of my campaigns for the first time in the history of our alliance, just when I might need you most. It seems to me that the two of you observe very different ideas of honor."

Alexander's fur bristled and his tail twirled at this attempt to impugn his fellow squirrel's character. "That's not fair! Lady Mina is one of the most honorable creatures I've ever known."

Mina put a restraining paw on his shoulder. "Alex ... " she said soothingly but firmly, then looked back at Urthblood. "If you do not change your decision, My Lord, then I will not change mine either. I am staying at Redwall."

Urthblood stood in silence for some moments. Lady Mina was Gawtrybe royalty, second only to her brother Marinus in standing among them. She was not like most of the creatures in the badger's army - misguided vermin who'd found themselves without a horde leader, or simple goodbeasts who'd grown fed up with the ravages of tyrants and warlords. She was aristocracy, not to mention an archerbeast without equal, and her sense of self-worth was not easily undermined. And from the way she held herself before him now, it was clear that she would abandon Urthblood here, and consider it no dishonor.

Machus stepped into the strained moment. "My Lord, I think Lady Mina may be of great assistance to me here at Redwall if this Abbey comes under siege. I would welcome her staying."

Alex thought it strange to see a fox playing peacemaker, but it was no stranger than any number of things that had come to pass at Redwall since Urthblood's arrival.

The Badger Lord seemed to have reached an agreement with himself. "I would rather have you in my service here than not at all," he said to Mina. "I will be disappointed if the column marches at noon and you are not with it ... but I will not accept your resignation. If you have not changed your decision by the time we leave, then my orders are that you remain here under Machus's command, to help with the defense of Redwall as he sees fit."

Mina nodded. "Thank you, My Lord." She turned and headed for the main Abbey building. Alex blinked, then ran to catch up with her, scarcely believing what had just happened.

"Well, that was a near thing!" He drew up alongside her. "I didn't know you were going to threaten to quit if he didn't let you stay. Would you have really done that? For me?"

"Yes, Alex, I would have."

Alex suddenly felt light in the head, and light on his footpaws. He'd long known how deeply he cared for Mina, but to have her confirm that she felt the same way about him was something else. "Well, I don't know what to say ... except that I'm happy you're staying. More than happy, actually. Uh ... " He looked her over as they walked side by side; Mina seemed perfectly at ease. "How can you be so calm about this?"

"Calm?" Mina laughed nervously. The tremor in her voice told Alex how difficult this had been for her. "My heart is still in my throat!" She leaned close to him and wrapped a paw around his waist, whispering in his ear, "But it was worth it!"

00000000000

Cyril stayed at his by-now customary spot on the walltop all throughout the morning, watching the army of Urthblood hastening to prepare for its impending march. The parade of soldiers coming and going through the south wallgate was nonstop, each seeking to fill its water vessel as full as possible before they got underway. Montybank's otters oversaw this activity for the safety of the Abbey - everybeast in this army, vermin and woodlander alike, was given its turn pondside to replenish its water supply - but the Northlanders were being kept too busy with their preparations to cause any trouble for the Redwallers.

Jans and Broggen were among the last to come inside for their canteen-filling. There still had been no announcement as to the identity of the other Northlanders who'd be staying behind with Machus and his foxes, so Cyril held out hope that his mouse and stoat friends would be able to remain at Redwall after all. The manacled pair waved up at him as they passed beneath his walltop station and made for the pond, along with the rest of this watering shift. Cyril clopped down the south wall stairs to join them. He'd come to a decision, but before he acted on it he first had to find out whether Jans and Broggen would be staying or going.

The novice mouse picked his way through the Northlanders of various species, all mixed together and waiting for their respective turns at the pool. Even though this was only a fragment of Urthblood's total forces, they seemed almost to have transformed the Abbey lawns into an unfamiliar place with their numbers. There must have been close to a hundred in this group, the largest to have been admitted so far. Monty's otters were there too, but for the moment Cyril avoided them as much as he could.

Feeling somewhat lost once he was fully in the thick of the soldiers, Cyril almost missed Jans and Broggen as he walked by them. Fortunately Jans recognized his young sparring partner and called Cyril over.

"Hey there, lad! Come to see us off before our long march?"

"Why, shore 'ee has." The stoat clapped Cyril on the shoulder, none too gently. "See, I tried t' tell Jansey 'ere to enjoy those nice beds while we could. Now it's march time again, an' no rest fer us 'til we get to that Salamandastron place, wherever that be."

"So it's for certain?" Cyril asked trepidatiously. "You're definitely going?"

"Aye," Jans nodded sadly. "Lord Urthblood's just finished picking the others who'll be staying. Mostly rats, weasels and shrews, from what I could see. But as fer me 'n' Broggs, we're Salamandastron bound!"

Cyril glanced around to make sure none of the Redwall otters were within hearing range. Looking back at Jans and Broggen, he said, "Then I want to come with you."

The two chained companions gaped at him. Then Jans grinned and shook his head. "You're a fiesty young 'un, I'll give you that. An' what would that badger ma'am who watches out f'you hafta say 'bout such a scheme?"

"I guess she wouldn't exactly approve," Cyril grinned back at Jans, hoping he looked as roguish and irrepressible as the Northlands mouse.

"S'pose not, since you got in trouble before just fer steppin' out to have that little joust session o' ours. Besides, you got that sneakin'-round look about you."

Cyril looked down at his sandaled paws. "I can't stay here. Not after yesterday, and with everybeast here still treating me like a child. And there are things going on that I just feel I'm meant to be a part of. I think maybe I'm supposed to march with you to Salamandstron."

"Kinda like destiny, huh?"

"Can't go 'gainst that," Broggen sagely observed.

Jans regarded Cyril. "Don't reckon you're plannin' on askin' permission on this, eh?"

"Maura and the Abbess would never let me go," Cyril said, "and if I tell Lord Urthblood, he'll feel he has to inform them. If I can leave Redwall with all of you, maybe I can get lost in the crowd and get away without being noticed. Once we've been marching for a day or two it should be okay, because I don't think Urthblood would send me back even if he discovers me."

"This could get tricky," said Jans. "I heard tell that some of the other Redwallers are goin' with us. You'd hafta keep hid from 'em, as well as Lord Urthblood."

"Just one otter," Cyril clarified. "And he'll be marching with his father and all the other otters. In a column of over half a thousand, the two of us might never even bump into each other. It should be easy to avoid them."

Jans tugged at Cyril's habit sleeve. "Not in that getup, it won't. Nobeast in this army wears anything like it. You'd stick out like a mole in midwinter. Gotta do something 'bout that, if'n you're serious about coming with us."

"Yes, I guess ... uh oh!" Hearing the unmistakable gutteral tones of molespeech drawing near, Cyril ducked behind Jans and Broggen. The two warriors hid him with their bodies until a trio of moles passed by and once again disappeared into the milling crowd.

"Speakin' of moles," Jans muttered.

Broggen looked after them, scratching his head. "Hey, Jansy, were those Redwaller moles or Urthblood moles?"

"Some o' both, I think. I was never good with moles." Janes turned to Cyril. "You sure you wanna do this, Cyril lad? Most likely there'll be some fightin' at the end o' this march, maybe bad fightin'. Me an' Broggs, we're trained fer it. I'm not sure this is a venture fer one as young as you."

"You said I knew how to handle a sword well. I figure it'll take many days, maybe weeks, to reach Salamandastron. You two can teach me along the way. I'm not saying I'll be any kind of expert warrior by journey's end, but I should be able to learn enough to fend for myself without anybeast's help."

Jans stared hard at Cyril. "Destiny, eh? Mebbe it is, an' who am I to argue with destiny? Okay, so you're comin' along with us. I can pull a few favors outta my hat from my fellow mice, who'll let you inta our part of the column without saying boo. But that still leaves the problem of how we're gonna keep you from bein' spotted by the other Redwallers - especially these otters right here, who're keepin' a sharp eye on all of us."

"I'd say some sorta disguise," Broggen offered. "Thou, I ain't exactly the brains o' this outfit. Wot'cher think, Jansy?"

"You hit it right this time, Broggs ol' buddy. A disguise is just what we need. The real trick'll be gettin' you outta that habit an' into marching soldier's gear without attractin' attention. But first things first, eh?" Jans contemplated Cyril's green novice's habit, then glanced around at some of his fellow warriors. "Let's find you a disguise that'll help you blend in with th' rest of us. Shouldn't be too hard to scrounge up a few spare rags from this bunch, should it?"

And then he flashed Cyril a grin that let the younger mouse know unequivocably that they were in this together. Even though he was trying to keep a low profile, Cyril suddenly felt as tall as a badger.


	14. Chapter 25

THE CRIMSON BADGER - Chapter Twenty-Five

Under a bright and unblinking noontide summer sun, the army of Urthblood organized itself into marching formation in the meadow outside the Abbey's south wall.

All of Redwall turned out for the Northlanders' departure. Many preferred to witness the military spectacle from the heights of the south ramparts, choosing the safety of the walltop rather than going outside where all of the armed soldiers were. Some were troubled by the news of the other troops Urthblood had chosen to remain at Redwall with the swordfoxes - a score and a half of mostly rats and weasels, with just a few shrews thrown into the mix - but for now those beasts were outside with their comrades-in-arms for the official sendoff. Once Urthblood was away, however ...

Droge, naturally, wanted to be outside right in the thick of things. Maura had all she could do to get the excitable little 'hog to stay on the walltop with his fellow children. Sister Aurelia and Friar Hugh (both of whom wanted to see this event with their own eyes to be satisfied for themselves that Urthblood truly was leaving) took Droge in paw between them and made sure he stayed put. Maura thanked them and excused herself to go down and join the other Abbey leaders in seeing Urthblood off. With so many of the adults jammed onto the battlements and all the Abbey's children packed in with them too, they didn't need a badger up there as well.

Machus, accompanied by Lady Mina, led his score of swordfoxes and the other Northlanders assigned to his Abbey detail out into the middle of the road. They took up a review formation off the southwest corner of Redwall and waited there.

Urthblood returned his fox chief's salute as he crossed the road himself, taking up a position on the lip of the ditch opposite the Abbey, turning to face his army in the meadow. Abbess Vanessa, Abbot Arlyn, Maura, Alexander and Montybank joined Urthblood at his left paw, between him and Machus. The Abbess had thought it only right that all of the senior Redwallers be on paw to bid the Badger Lord a proper farewell; after all, Winokur and Warnokur would be part of this march, and then there were the numerous friends that had been made among Urthblood's woodland creatures. Of the top Abbey leadership, only Brother Geoff remained within, looking on from the safe remove of the crowded walltop.

The two Redwall otters came next. Warnokur had been given special leave from Lord Urthblood to remain apart from the main column until the march was underway. They stopped before the badger warrior, Winokur in Abbess Mhera's borrowed habit and Warnokur in his more traditional otter garb. Warnokur nodded at Vanessa and Montybank. "Looks like y' just can't keep me 'ere at Redwall fer more'n a few days at a time, can ye?"

"Aye, looks like not," agreed Monty, glancing worriedly at Winokur. "Warny, ye're an old scrapper an' an old paw at adventures like these, so I've no doubt you'll find yer way through this jus' fine. But Wink's got no experience at things like this. Promise me you'll watch out fer him, as much as y'can."

"Yer head would hafta be as thick as yer tail if'n you s'posed I'd do otherwise," Wanokur said goodnaturedly. "'ee's my son, after all, even if I ain't been around much to be a father to 'im."

Winokur faltered a moment, not sure he wanted to take on his two elders in front of Urthblood and the Abbess. Then he gave an unabashed grin. "Aw, I can take care o' myself. You've not been drillin' me ragged all these seasons for naught, Montybank sir. I may be wearing a habit of Redwall, but I'll still be carrying my javelin too, an' rest assured I've not forgotten how to use it!"

"Let's hope you don't have to," said Monty. "That habit marks you as a peacemaker, an' I'd rather see you plyin' yer diplomatic skills than tryin' yer shaft against the hares of th' Long Patrol. Or a Badger Lord."

Vanessa turned from the otters to Urthblood. "Pray keep this in mind, My Lord. We're sending Winokur with you, at his own insistence, as an official envoy of Redwall, and he is sworn to remain neutral in any conflict. He has selflessly offered his services as mediator between you and your brother, and I can only urge you to make use of them in any way that you can to prevent bloodshed. I would not see a single honest creature lose its life through a simple misunderstanding."

"That is as much up to my brother as it is to me, Abbess. But I will keep your words in mind."

Warnokur beamed down at his son. "If you'd asked me yesterday, I might've been disappointed that Wink wasn't goin' with me t' stand by my side in battle. But I think I'm even more proud of 'im now. Ye're a real Redwaller, son, much as any Abbot or Abbess ever was!"

"That he is," Monty said proudly, taking turns shaking paws with his two fellow otters. "Take care o' yerself, Wink. You too, Warny."

"Yes, " Vanessa said, "may this turn out to be a mission of peace and not a march to war. May the spirit of Martin go with you both and keep you safe on this journey."

Winokur and Warnokur nodded their appreciation to the Abbess, then stepped over to stand at Urthblood's right paw. The Badger Lord surprised Vanessa then by extending his paw toward her. She was not accustomed to such a comradely gesture from the grim warrior, who had not been seen to laugh or smile during his entire stay at Redwall. She clasped his outheld paw in her own, and they shook with firm friendliness.

"I am indebted to you, Abbess, for your hospitality toward both me and my troops during our time here. I feel I have truly made a great ally of Redwall. You overcame your initial misgivings about my vermin troops to treat them with the open-mindedness of truly civilized creatures. That was all I ever asked, and I believe you see now that my campaign to unite all creatures can be made to work."

"Perhaps," Vanessa said. "I do question your choice of soldiers to stay behind at Redwall. All of your foxes, and another thirty weasels and rats on top of that ... "

"And shrews," said Urthblood. "Do not forget the shrews. I think you will find them most useful, whether to guard Hanchett or to drive away anybeast who is not welcome at Redwall."

"Still, it is not quite what I was expecting," Vanessa pressed. "What about some of your otters, or mice? We have made great friends of Captains Saybrook and Abellon."

"I have selected these troops most carefully, Abbess. They are the ones I feel would best be able to assist you in the defense of Redwall, and the ones I can most easily spare from my own campaign. My otters and mice will be needed at Salamandastron, if there is fighting."

Vanessa pursed her lips uncertainly. "Maybe I am not entirely over my initial misgivings after all. But as long as your force here is under the command of Machus and Lady Mina, I suppose we will continue to give them the benefit of the doubt."

"Station them outside the Abbey, if it will ease your mind," said Urthblood. "Just be aware that you may have to let them in eventually, if my brother appears and causes trouble. I do not want any of my troops needlessly slaughtered by a madbeast. Otherwise, if you deign to allow them to remain within Redwall, Machus will deploy them as he sees fit. He and Mina will see to it that they cause you no trouble."

"And what of the hare, Hanchett?" Arlyn asked. "I understand you want him held for ten days?"

Urthblood nodded. "Machus will see to it that Hanchett causes you no trouble either."

"Ah, yes, er ... "

"I have ordered Machus to follow your wishes in all matters. He has good military and tactical counsel to offer, and I would urge you to weigh his input in the event of any crisis. His experience in battle is nearly the equal of mine."

"We will keep that in mind," Vanessa assured Urthblood. "Machus has done much to undo the bad reputation of foxes here at Redwall, and we will include him in all our councils. Although, to be honest, I can't envision any crisis that we won't be able to simply wait out from behind our walls. I gather even your brother and his hares would have trouble entering our home if we didn't want them in here."

"It is the unexpected which can often lead to disaster." Urthblood ran his gaze over the defenders of Redwall: Vanessa, Arlyn, Monty, Alex, Maura and Foremole stood in a tight knot before him. "If any creatures can weather disaster, it is surely you fine and stouthearted folk. A word of advice: if my brother should come to Redwall and you agree to meet with him, do not all gather together as you are now. It would be too easy for him to slay you all and leave Redwall without its leaders."

The Redwallers were lost for words at the chilling thought of this scenario. Even though some of them had considered similar things regarding Urthblood himself, it was quite something else hearing the Badger Lord voice such concerns aloud about his brother.

"If any bully raises so much as a claw to me or any of my friends," said Alex, "I'll have an arrow through his head and another through his heart before he knows what hit him. Even if he is your brother, Lord."

"Let us hope this situation will resolve itself peacefully long before it comes to such a point," said Urthblood. "And if there is to be violence, may it be far from the hallowed walls of this Abbey." He glanced up toward the meadow. "My troops are fully formed for marching. It is time for us to be underway."

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"So far, so good."

Cyril's heart was pounding, even though Jans's assessment seemed to be correct. The novice mouse stood at the heart of Abellon's squad, which was itself embedded in the midst of the marching column. He wore the gray travel cloak and green headband he'd been able to borrow from one of the other mice. The troops around him, including of course Jans and Broggen, were aware of the "stowaway" among them, but Jans had convinced them not to advertise Cyril's presence, calling in a few favors to accomplish this feat. Any moment they would get the word to march, and then Cyril would be on his way to Salamandastron.

The slight-of-paw they'd pulled off in the Abbey right under the otters' noses had gone more smoothly than anybeast had any right to expect. After rounding up the proper articles for Cyril's disguise from some of his comrades in arms, Jans had arranged for several of his fellow mice to form a circle around the young mouse so that Cyril could change outfits while shielded from the otters' view. Since the Redwallers were concentrating on the vermin among Urthblood's soldiers, and Jans and Broggen made sure to stand well away from where Cyril was changing, none of the guards thought to look the way of the mouse circle, standing innocently around off near the south wall.

Once he was properly outfitted as a fighting beast, Cyril sneaked over to a clump of bushes near the least-visited side of the pond and pushed his green habit and sandals deep into the shrubbery, where they were not likely to be discovered until he was well away from the Abbey.

When he'd gone outside to join Urthblood's main army, it was in the company of Jans, Broggen and half a dozen other mice; the otters at the wallgate didn't even give him a second glance as he strode right past them!

Now was the moment of truth. If they could just get underway without him being missed, then he might just get away with this. Cyril's knees were trembling, and butterflies filled his stomach. This waiting was the worst part. He was glad for the headband, to absorb the sweat that otherwise would have been standing out on his brow and dripping into his eyes. Even so, the perspiration staining his upper lip must have been a dead giveaway to the seasoned campaigners around him that he was far from calm.

Jans gave him a companionly look. "Nervous, lad?"

"Um ... yeah, a little."

"All the green recruits are, first time out. Naught t' be ashamed of. Always a bit nervewracking, waitin' for the order to march. Even tough on oldtimers like me. But don'tcha worry, once we're on the road, it'll be just fine, you'll see."

Cyril hoped Jans was right, because if he had to stand out here in the unsparing noon sun much longer, holding his position in the column to avoid calling attention to himself, he didn't know if he could take it.

Then the order came. It was first heard far forward, out by the road where Lord Urthblood stood. It was repeated by squad leader as it made its way back along the column, and as the leading elements marched out on to the path, those behind fell into line and formed themselves into the final marching formation of a single continuous column five beasts wide and over a hundred long.

The formation was held as the column came to the road and, one segment after the next, turned south to stretch itself down the path. The captain of each regiment - the otters slingers, the shortsword shrews, the hedgehog club masters, the Tunnel and Trencher Corps of moles, and more rats and weasels than Mossflower had seen since the days of Cluny - saluted Urthblood as the various divisions marched past the badger warrior. Shouts and calls of "Keep moving!" and "Left, face!" and "Even up those ranks!" filled the warm summer air.

At last the end of the column snaked out from the meadow and took its place in the road, turning past Urthblood to face south along the path.

"Halt!"

The army came to a shuffling, staggered stop and held formation. Cyril, well past the Badger Lord and feeling safely anonymous amongst so many other similarly-garbed mice, whispered to Jans, "Why have we stopped?"

"Pretty routine," the Northlands mouse answered. "His Lordship'll wanna make his final farewell to your Abbess an' th' rest, then take his usual place at the head of the column. Then we'll be on our way for real."

"Oh," Cyril said, and started silently counting the seconds to himself.

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Urthblood stood staring down the column with an expression of mild consternation of his face. "My Lord," Machus inquired, "is something wrong?"

"Something is not quite as it should be. Abbess, would you mind coming with me?"

Vanessa was surprised. "My Lord, if anything is amiss with your army, I am not qualified to help

you with that. Perhaps Alexander, or Montybank ... "

"It is nothing to do with any of my troops, I am sure," Urthblood said. "Please, this will only take a moment. Warnokur, you and your son may as well come with us too, since you will want to be taking your place at the head of the column now. "

"Aye, M'Lord. Come along, Wink. After you, Abbess ma'am."

Vanessa shrugged, then fell into step behind the badger, with the father and son otter bringing up her rear. Together they made their way down the roadside along the right flank of troop column.

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Broggen glanced back over his shoulder from his place in the mouse brigade. "Look sharp, mateys! Lord Urthblood's a-comin'!"

Jans turned to Cyril. "See, lad, told you we'd be on our way in no time!"

"Um, there's three beasts with 'im," Broggen reported uncertainly. "Them two Redwall otters, an' a lady mouse. Looks like th' Abbess herself, unless I'm mistaken."

Jans and Cyril twisted their necks around, straining to see for themselves, but lacking their stoat companion's height they could see only the marchers behind them. "The Abbess, y'say? Are you sure, Broggs?"

"Sure as I'm brown in summer, Jansy. Lord Urthblood looks t' be escortin' her this way."

Cyril felt his mouth go dry, his heart skipped a beat and his stomach fell into his footpaws. He looked to Jans in panic. "They're looking for me, I know it! They must've missed me already! What should I do?"

The Northlands mouse pursed his lips. "Not much you can do, Cyril lad. If you try t' duck outta the column now, you'll be spotted. Ye're as well hid as you're gonna get, a mouse among mice. 'Course, if they're lookin' for you, they'll know you're prob'ly with me 'n' Broggs. An' if they start lookin' at faces, then you'll be found out, an' that's that."

Cyril tried to shrink down inside his borrowed gray travel cloak, to drop down into the ground beneath the road through the sheer force of his will. He forced himself to look straight ahead and slightly down, trying to put on the same attitude of seasoned fighter's hardness as the mice around him, but he knew that Winokur and the Abbess would recognize him the moment they looked closely enough. What he couldn't figure out was how his absence had been discovered so quickly.

Urthblood drew to a halt on the roadside abreast of them. Cyril could not help but glance the Badger Lord's way ... and when he did, he found the red-armored warrior staring right into his eyes. Standing in the road under the noontide sun with so many warm bodies around him, Cyril felt like he was buring. The blood roared so loudly in his ears that he almost didn't hear Urthblood calling ahead to his mouse captain, who stood five ranks in front of Cyril.

"Captain Abellon! Were you aware that you have an extra mouse in your batallion?"

The mouse commander turned back to face his master, surprise plain on his face. "Er, no I wasn't, My Lord."

The other mice parted to let Urthblood into the midst of the column. Ignoring Jans, Broggen, and the other conspirators, the big badger gazed down at Cyril. "You must go back to your Abbess, and to your friends."

"You said I could be a warrior," Cyril pleaded. "You believed in me. Nobeast at Redwall does."

"Perhaps someday that is what you will be. But you are young yet, and seasons of training lie between you and a campaign like this."

"But ... what if it's my destiny to go with you to Salamandastron?"

"It is not," Urthblood said with quiet certitude. "I see the ways of destiny more clearly than anybeast alive. Believe me when I say to you, in all truthfulness, this battle is not yours."

Cyril looked to Jans and Broggen, knowing this might be the last time he'd ever see either of them. Jans shook his head. "Sorry, Cyril lad. We gave it a good fightin' try, but it looks like it wasn't meant to be."

"Mebbe next time," Broggen added hopefully.

With Urthblood's giant paw on his shoulder gently urging him forward, Cyril allowed himself to be guided out of the column and toward the waiting Abbess. Vanessa's eyes were wide with surprise. "My Lord, how did you ever spot this youngster in the middle of all your troops? Why, he's even dressed like one of them!"

"I know my army very well," Urthblood replied. "Something as crucial as an extra beast that is not supposed to be there is a thing I would not miss."

"But, in the middle of half a thousand?" The Abbess was incredulous.

"My eye is very well trained in such matters."

"Yes ... yes, I suppose it must be." She shook her head at the novice mouse. "Cyril, what were you thinking?"

Cyril could not make his mouth work, and didn't know what he'd say even if he could have.

"There is a restless warrior's spirit inside this one, that cannot be denied," Urthblood said. "A word of advice, Abbess: I would suggest you find somebeast at Redwall to train young Cyril properly. Otherwise, you will wake one day to find him gone from Redwall. And without some real battle training to match his aspirations, he will be poorly equipped to meet the challenges he will seek, and you will most likely not see him return to Redwall again."

Vanessa wasn't sure what to say to Urthblood's forthrightness. "We will bring up our young ones as best we can, just as we always have. Cyril will be able to choose his own life's path when the time is right."

"Sometimes the right time comes before you realize it. Remember, you have not had an Abbey Champion during the lifetime of any creature currently living at Redwall. You have had no practice in recognizing such things. Their shape can sometimes be surprising."

These words bouyed Cyril's deflated spirits considerably. Perhaps this day wasn't his. But his would come. It would come.

"Um ... I will try to remember that, My Lord," Vanessa said, as graciously as she could.

Winokur and Warnokur said their goodbyes to the Abbess once more, then went with Urthblood to the head of the column, where they would march with him. Shortly thereafter the whole file came alive like a single enormous centipede with over a thousand legs, inching forward slowly at first and then picking up speed as all parts of the column settled into a common pace. They filled the dirt path from one side to the other, leaving Redwall just as they had arrived - an immense snake of marchers moving as a single entity, winding its way into the south of Mossflower. Vanessa and Cyril stood and watched from the roadside as the remainder of the mouse regiment flowed by them, followed by the mole corps, the hedgehog squad and a second batallion of rats bringing up the rear.

As the trailing marchers receded, Vanessa said to Cyril, in her most kindly manner, "Why don't we go up to the walltop ourselves? We'll be able to see them away farther along the road from there."

"Yes, Mother Abbess. I'd like that."

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Maura and the other Redwallers farther up the road watched Vanessa escort Cyril back to the waiting group. They couldn't imagine what had caused Urthblood to pull the Abbess away like that, and were all surprised to see the slight, gray-cloaked warrior mouse transform into their familiar bellringer as he drew closer to them.

"Well, well," the Badger matriarch looked sternly down her snout at the wayward youth. "First sneaking outside without permission to duel with that mouse and stoat, and now this! And just where did you think you were off to with all those tough Northerners, young Cyril?"

But Vanessa immediately spoke up on Cyril's behalf. "Not now, Maura. I've already had words with Cyril about this, and it's settled. No more recriminations or chastisements, please."

Maura looked like she was about to challenge her Abbess on this, but then thought better of doing so in front of Machus and the remaining Northlanders.

Machus had been listening to all this, along with Lady Mina. "Is this the lad," the swordfox asked, "who was outside the wall with Jans and Broggen when the hare Hanchett attacked them?"

"The same one," Maura grumbled.

"Sounds to me like he has a lot of spirit," Machus said. "Far be it from me to intrude into Redwall's personal affairs, but maybe this lad would have been right at home among Lord Urthblood's troops."

"Yes," Mina backed up the fox before any of the Abbeydwellers could naysay him, "a warrior's spirit and yearning is not to be denied, no matter the age or species of the one who possesses it."

Vanessa kept her paw supportively on Cyril's shoulder. "If Cyril is meant to become a warrior or our next Abbey Champion, it will happen in its own good time. We could be looking at a war between Badger Lords, a crisis unlike any the lands have ever seen. Cyril's place in not in the midst of a conflict like that. We are sending one Redwaller with Lord Urthblood, hopefully to prevent that very war. That one shall have to suffice."

She turned to Cyril. "Why don't you run up to the walltop so you can finish seeing off the army?"

"If it's all right, Abbess, I'd rather go up to the bell tower and ring a farewell and good journeying toll. They'd be able to hear it long after they lose sight of the Abbey."

"That's a wonderful idea. Maura, perhaps you'd care to join Cyril? It takes two to sound that good-will toll properly, I believe."

Maura nodded, leading Cyril away from the rest toward the open south wallgate. "Let's see if you still remember how to pull those bell ropes after all this play soldiering you've been doing ... "

Alexander asked Vanessa, "How shall we deploy these fine fighting beasts Lord Urthblood has left us?" His gaze travelled critically over the rats and weasels standing with the swordfoxes. "He said we could post them outside if you saw fit ... "

"Nooo," she said slowly, thoughtfully shaking her head. "They are guests of this Abbey, here to lend us a paw to protect Redwall. What kind of hosts would we be if we made them stay outside our walls?"

Machus nodded her way. "I appreciate your trust in us, Abbess."

"One other thing, Machus. We must discuss what to do about Hanchett. The idea of holding a freebeast down in our cellars for ten days is most unappealing to me. Let us go inside now and discuss what might be done to improve this situation to everybeast's satisfaction."

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The farewell serenade of the Matthias and Methuselah bells rang out across Mossflower Woods, carrying all the way down the road to where Urthblood's army tramped south. Although they were no longer within sight of the Abbey, the Northland soliders were heartened by the melodious sendoff - once the meaning of the sounds was made clear.

Urthblood, marching at the head of the column, glanced up at the first sound of the bells. "Is that trouble?" he wondered aloud.

Winokur and Warnokur listened along with the badger, and a wide grin spread across the younger otter's face. "No, Lord, I recognize that toll. It's just the Abbeyfolk saying goodbye again, and wishing us good fortune on our travels."

Urthblood nodded. "Someday, when I am at Redwall again, I will tell the Abbess how much this gesture was appreciated."

Word of the bells' meaning spread back through the ranks, and when it reached the mouse platoon, Jans and Broggen grinned as widely as Winokur had. "Ah, now that's music to march to!" the mouse fighter laughed. "Never got a sendoff like that in the Northlands, no siree!"

"An' I reckern I know what beast is yanking them ropes right now," Broggen added. "Best partin' gift Cyril could've given us."

And so, with the midday sun lighting their way and the dust of their stamping paws drifting high above the treetops in their wake, the army of Lord Urthblood wound its way south with its spirits lifted mightily. As the sound of the Abbey's bells receded into the distance, the marchers broke into one of their old campaigning road songs.

"Near, far, an' in between,

O, the places we have seen!

North, south, east and west,

A soldier's footpaws never rest.

Send us off to where we're needed,

Y'know we've never been defeated!

Lord Urthblood tells us where to go

To stand our ground an' face the foe.

Bow and arrow, sword and shield,

Stand for honor, never yield.

Javelin, club, stone and sling,

Peace to all the lands we bring.

Near, far, an' in between,

Mountain, valley, forest, stream.

North, south, east and west,

Sing out proud 'cos we're the best!"

Warnokur, still in his first season of service to Lord Urthblood, knew the words nevertheless and sang out the tune as lustily as anybeast. Winokur refrained from joining in, since he was travelling with this army as a neutral peacemaker and official envoy of Redwall. But even he was stirred by the martial song, and hoped that its spirit of honor and peace would hold them well when they reached Salamandastron, and the challenges that awaited them there.


	15. Chapter 26

THE CRIMSON BADGER - Chapter Twenty-Six

With the last echoes of the Matthias and Methuselah bells fading over the woodlands, Vanessa stood at the entrance to the main Abbey building with Machus and Mina. The fifty extra troops of Urthblood's had been posted at various points along the walltop, more to get them out of the way for the moment than anything else, and now the Abbess had the matter of Hanchett to discuss with Redwaller's two newest temporary defenders.

The two Northlanders were standing firm about keeping the hare confined to the cellars. Mina did most of the talking, but it was clear that she and Machus shared common views on the issue.

"Abbess," the Gawtrybe squirrel was saying, "the resourcefulness and fighting spirit of the Long Patrol are legendary. If Hanchett is placed in a room with windows - any room, even three stories off the ground - he will try to escape. And that will place us in the awkward position of having to forcibly restrain a skilled warrior who might be willing to fight to the death. I doubt he would seriously harm a Redwaller, but I wouldn't put it past him to raise a few bruises and lumps among your defenders if that was the price of his freedom. As for Lord Urthblood's troops, those Hanchett would slay without a second thought, given the chance. He has already demonstrated that. Now, I know how it grieves you to hold any creature here against its will, and I can understand why you would want to make Hanchett as comfortable as possible, but in this case you surely can see why he must be held under maximum security?"

"No, I don't think you can possibly know how much it grieves me," Vanessa retorted. "Which is why I want to go speak with him right now. Maybe if he has a chance to address the Abbess of Redwall herself, I can convince him to pledge me his good behavior. I will not keep him cooped up in that dank cell if there is a satisfactory alternative."

Mina looked dubious. "This is not an area in which we can take any chances, Abbess. Remember Lord Urthblood's vision of last night. Things at Salamandastron may have grown dangerous. Hanchett might not be trustworthy."

Vanessa decided it was time to voice what had been on her mind since that morning. "I find it somewhat ... coincidental ... that Urthblood had this latest vision on the very same night that an owl came to visit him on the battlements. I don't suppose either of you can enlighten me as to what that was all about?"

Mina put on a distasteful face. "My dear Abbess, you have agreed to take Lord Urthblood's forces into your midst, in a clear showing of trust and, I might add, good sense. I had thought we were well past such suspicions."

"Nevertheless, that owl must have been carrying news of some import, since Urthblood came right down from that meeting to immediately rouse his troops for mobilization. Do either of you know what they discussed?"

"I assume," Machus answered, "that it was merely a routine scouting report on the presence of any enemies on the move within Mossflower."

"And are there?" Vanessa asked. "Enemies abroad in Mossflower?"

"I gather not," said the swordfox, "since he did not inform me of such a thing."

"Lord Urthblood gathers reports from his birds all the time," Mina asserted. "It's nothing at all unusual. In fact, an all-clear report from Captain Saugus might have been just the thing to convince him to follow this course of action, since I doubt he would have departed Redwall if there was any kind of threat near this Abbey."

"Hmm. I would have liked to hear for myself what this Captain Saugus had to say. But, both he and Urthblood are gone now, and I can only hope it is not to war." Vanessa heaved a sigh. "What happens with them is out of our paws now. We must concern ourselves with what is going on here at Redwall. And that means Hanchett, first and foremost. Now, I would speak with that hare. Do you two wish to accompany me, or not?"

Mina and Machus exchanged glances, then motioned as one for Vanessa to lead the way into the Abbey.

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With two and a half score foxes, rats and weasels (and a few shrews) up on the walltop, all the Abbeybeasts who'd been there to see off Urthblood's army made a quick descent down the nearest wall stairs they could find. Soon the only creatures on the ramparts were the armed Northlanders, along with a dozen or so of Alexander's squirrels. The two factions stood alongside each other in an uneasy silence, warily regarding each other without mingling or exchanging more than the curtest of nods or words.

When he had finished pulling the bellropes to sound the farewell travelers' toll, Cyril went up to the south walltop himself. Finding a spot that was relatively free and clear of sentries - Redwallers or Northlanders - the novice mouse took up a position leaning against the battlements, gazing out at the meadow beyond the wall. He still wore the gray travel cloak and green headband given to him by Urthblood's mice. The field below, which for many days had been covered by an encampment of over half a thousand warriors, now stood pitted, grass-trampled and empty. The presence of thirty score fighting beasts had left its mark, here where they had drilled and eaten and rested, and it would be a season or more before this small patch of Mossflower recovered some semblence of normalcy.

Cyril squinted and sniffed, whiskers and ears atwitch. If he really concentrated, he almost imagined he could still smell the smokey tang of the army's small cookfires, hear the clack of wood and the clang of steel as they fought their mock battles, and see the riot of motion as they drilled furiously in one vast seething mass of military maneuvers. It was hard to believe that such an incredible force had actually ever been here at Redwall, in spite of the evidence before him, or the presence of fifty Northlanders farther along the ramparts.

Hunger gnawed at his burbling stomach. In the excitement of all that had happened that morning, starting with the frantic preparations for his clandestine getaway and ending with his ignominious discovery by Urthblood himself, he'd eaten no more than a few nibbles of breakfast, and nothing at all for lunch. But he was in no mood to partake of food now. Perhaps by suppertime, when Friar Hugh had the evening meal prepared. But not yet.

The approaching clip-clop of sandals against the walkway stone drew Cyril's attention away from the meadow. His brother Cyrus was walking toward him, with Cyril's rolled-up habit in one paw and Cyril's sandals dangling by their thongs from the other. The younger mouse picked his way around a knot of rats and weasels with undisguised trepidation, then held out the clothes to his sibling. "Here, Cyr. Thought you might want these back."

Cyril took them, but set them down by his feet. "Maybe later. I'm not gonna change right up here on the ramparts."

"Oh." Cyrus stood for a moment looking at his older brother in uncertainty. "Cyr, what's wrong?" he asked at length, in a pleading, childlike tone. "Why did you try to run away?"

"I wasn't running away," Cyril protested, then realized that that was exactly what he'd been doing - running away from Redwall, from his life as an orphan bellringer, and from all the creatures here who seemed incapable of believing he could ever be anything else. Even though his fellow Abbeydwellers were the only real family he'd ever had, and part of him loved Redwall dearly, their blissful way of life was now as restrictive to him as the small room he'd always shared with Cyrus.

"You shouldn't've run off without telling me first," Cyrus complained. "I would've gone with you."

This made Cyril jerk up straight. "You ... gone with me? Ha!"

His caustic bark of laughter made the nearest rats glance their way. Cyrus scowled. "Well, I would have! What's so funny?"

"Cy, you're - you're just a child! Where I was going there might be war, creatures killing and dying. You couldn't have come with me."

"But, we've always done everything together! What's happened to you? Don't you want to be my brother anymore?"

"Of course - " Cyril was about to explain to Cyrus what he was feeling and how Cyrus wasn't old enough to understand. But then, looking at his younger sibling through the eyes of the protective older brother, the one who always led the way to make sure it was safe for Cyrus to follow, it dawned on him that Abbess Vanessa and Maura and the other adults might see him the same way he saw Cyrus. Realizing how terrible he would feel if something awful happened to Cyrus that he might have been able to prevent, he could more fully appreciate the responsibility that his elders felt toward him.

Cyril placed both his paws on Cyrus's shoulders. "Listen. We'll always be brothers. So don't worry about something silly, like whether I still like you. But the fact is, I'm gonna grow up before you do, Cy. I'm not content to be just a bellringer anymore. And where I go from here, you might not be able to follow. Not yet, anyway, not until you're older. That's just the way things are. I'm almost done with being a child, but you still have a season or two to go."

"But ... I don't want it to be that way! Why can't you just stay here at Redwall, so we can stay together?"

Cyril picked petulently at his borrowed cloak. "Looks like that's exactly what'll be happening, for now. They won't let me out of their sight for awhile, I bet."

"Good. I'm glad." Cyrus forced a smile. "So we'll always be friends, right?"

Cyril returned the smile, ruffling his sibling's headfur with one paw. "More than friends, Cy. Brothers." An enormous yawn escaped him then, making him realize how tired he was. "Y'know, I got hardly any sleep last night. I'm gonna go inside and nap for a bit. Do me a favor, Cy, and wake me for supper if I'm not up by then, huh?"

"Sure will, Cyr!"

Cyril collected his habit and sandals and headed for the wall stairs. Cyrus threw a glance at the gruff rats, who returned his gaze with sour and surly looks of their own. That was enough to make the young mouse hurry after his brother, almost stepping on Cyril's tail in his haste to be away from the Northlands rodents.

00000000000

Urthblood's five shrews were still helping the Redwall otters guard Hanchett's inprovised cell. Everybeast in the tunnel stood to attention at the approach of Vanessa and Machus. The swordfox returned the salute from his shrews, while the otters merely nodded more informally to their Abbess. "I'm here to see the hare," Vanessa announced. "Please open the door and let us in."

The otters immediately moved to obey. The Northland shrews looked to Machus for confirmation, and he won their cooperation with a slight nod. The shrews stood aside, but kept their paws on the hilts of their shortswords as Vanessa and Machus entered the hare's chamber.

Hanchett sat against the far wall, holding perfectly still in the spare illumination of his cell's single lamp, much as he had the previous night when Montybank had visited him. His penetrating and appraising gaze traveled from mouse to fox, and lingered on the latter. "Wot, time for my bally execution?"

"Don't be silly," Vanessa admonished. "I'm the Abbess, in case you'd forgotten me from our brief encounter yesterday on the north lawn. Nobeast is going to harm you; I have guaranteed your safety, and my word is law here. You invoked the sanctuary of Redwall yesterday, and you shall have it."

"Hmm. Never asked to be put in this blinkin' dungeon, tho'."

The Abbess bristled at this. "Redwall does not have dungeons. This is just an old cellar room. It is not normally our way to hold anybeast against its will."

"But I guess ol' Urthblood's convinced you t' make an exception in my case, wot? So, time fer me to get dragged before His Bloodiness an' pumped for intelligence?"

"Lord Urthblood is gone," Vanessa informed the hare. "He and his army left for Salamandastron a short time ago."

Hanchett's face fell. For several moments a tumolt of emotions played across his features, making it impossible to tell what thoughts were racing through his mind. Clearly his confidence had been shaken by this revelation. "Wot? Gone?"

Machus nodded. "After hearing your story yesterday, he became convinced he must journey to Salamandastron at once, to find out what has made Lord Urthfist view him as an enemy."

Hanchett ground his teeth as he regarded the fox. "Obviously he didn't take all his stinkin' vermin with him."

"Some of us were left here to help guard you, and to help protect these good creatures from anybeast seeking to do them harm," said Machus. "But you are in the care of the Redwallers now, just as I and my soldiers are guests of this Abbey."

Hanchett set his paws dejectedly upon his knees, head bowed. "We knew it had to come someday. I should be there."

"My own feelings exactly," echoed Machus. "But Lord Urthblood ordered me to remain at Redwall, and I do not disobey my master."

Hanchett glanced up at the fox. He seemed surprised to be hearing this kind of loyalty from such a creature.

"We don't know for a fact that there's going to be war," Vanessa said hopefully. "Maybe - "

"Oh, there'll be war," Hanchett grumbled. "You can bet on it. That monster Urthblood's been preparin' fer seasons. Won't rest until he's well an' truly taken Salamandastron for his own ... or until he's well an' truly dead."

"Lord Urthblood has had other things to occupy his attention in the Northlands, I can assure you," Machus said curtly. "And he's the rightful ruler of Salamandastron. There's no reason for war, unless Lord Urthfist wants it that way."

"Oh, that's rich, comin' from the likes o' you!" Hanchett barked, and turned to Vanessa. "Mebbe he's got you fooled into believin' he's some kinda goodbeast - you folk wouldn't be the first to be deceived by His Bloodiness - but don't you fall fer it. Urthblood's pure evil, through an' through."

"Prove it," Machus challenged.

"Well, he's got vermin like you under arms. That about says it all, don't it?"

"No, it doesn't," the Abbess said. "For many days, we have been able to speak with Lord Urthblood's followers - mice, moles, otters and hedgehogs, mind you - and they all swear that he has achieved great things in the north. Such abundant testimony is not easily ignored. His troops behaved themselves while they stayed at Redwall, and we have forged friendships among many of them. He has helped us strengthen our defenses, and promised future help if we should need it. How are we to now regard him as an enemy?"

"Never said he wasn't good at strategy," Hanchett sniffed. "His aim this time was to win your trust, and he's bally well succeeded at that by the look of things. Never woulda imagined he'd chose this tactic to take Redwall, but then he always was a crafty one. Sly as any fox, an' ten times as dangerous."

"I am standing right here," Machus reminded the rude hare.

"An' don't think I haven't forgotten it, chap."

"I didn't come down here so you two could trade insults," Vanessa said. "Hanchett, Lord Urthblood has requested that you be kept at Redwall for ten days. After that, you will be free to go. How you spend this time is up to you. Machus here thinks you should be restricted to this cell, for the safety of everybeast involved. I am inclined to offer you more comfortable accommodations ... but only if you promise me that you will agree to abide by the terms of your detainment, and cause no trouble for those who are guarding you, be they Redwallers or Northlanders in the service of Lord Urthblood. Pledge to me your good behavior for the next ten days here at this Abbey, and you may enjoy all the benefits we have to offer any guest who stays with us. What say you?"

"I say it would still be a prison, ma'am, even with all the bally fresh air an' grass an' flowers an' sunshine ... " Hanchett shook his head. "Couldn't make any such promise anyhow. Duty, don'tcha know. If I can find a way to report back to Lord Urthfist, I'll hafta take it, first chance that comes my way."

Vanessa's lips turned down at the corners. "Well, at least you're an honest beast, but then I wouldn't expect anything less from a hare of the Long Patrol. But if you will not promise your good behavior, then I have no choice but to keep you down here. As Abbess, my first concern must be the safety of my fellow Redwallers. You will be kept as comfortable as may be allowed, until the ten days are up. Then you will be free to leave and to go where you may."

"Assumin', of course, that no villain sneaks down here in the dead of night an' draws a blade across my throat." Hanchett shot Machus a deadly glare. "Although I invite anybeast to try."

"No such thing will happen," Vanessa said severely. "Not while I am Abbess. Now, is there anything else you require? I take it our food and drink has been satisfactory?"

Hanchett's ears flopped forward in chagrin. "Pardon me if I seem ungracious, ma'am. It's been quite fine. Top hole, in fact - everything I'd always heard to expect from Redwall fare. Too bad I'm not in much of a mood to properly enjoy it. Bein' denied your freedom does have that effect, wot?"

Vanessa glanced at the bed of straw that had been hastily provided for the hare when he was first brought down here. "I'll see about having a real mattress and blankets brought down to you. I want you to be as comfortable as possible, whether you're in any mood to appreciate it or not."

"No offense, Abbess, but I'd rather be sleepin' in a muddy ditch, if that was where the rest o' my platoon was. A soldier belongs with his comrades in times of war."

"Then, hopefully, these will not be such times," Vanessa said. "There is a Redwaller travelling to Salamandastron with Lord Urthblood. An otter, who is a full novice of the Redwall order. His mission is one of peace and diplomacy. If there is any way to prevent bloodshed between Urthblood and Urthfist, he is duty-bound to find it. I advise you to place your hopes on that young one, because we all have."

"Wishful thinking," Hanchett said sadly. "I'm afraid your otter lad has only gone an' put 'imself in the middle of a bally big mess. There's gonna be war. Urthblood's own prophecy says so, or so I've always heard. That beast's gotta be stopped, or else we're all in for it. This ends on the battlefield, not at the negotiatin' table. An' if I were you, I'd root hard for Lord Urthfist. Otherwise," he waved a paw toward Machus, "you'll hafta get used to takin' your orders from beasts like him."

"I'm rooting for peace, above anything else," Vanessa replied. "Although, if all the Long Patrol are as intractable as you, I have reason to despair. But if it comes to war, we will deal with that when we must. Until then ... " Vanessa shrugged. "Let your guards know if there is anything else you would like, and we will do our best to provide it for you."

"Only thing I'm needin' right now is my bally freedom."

"In ten days you'll have it. Come, Machus. We've done all we can here."

"Yes, I agree." Casting one last baleful glance at the hare, Machus followed Vanessa out of the cell. The door slammed shut with a bang, and Hanchett heard the lockbolt slide home. Alone once more, the brave hare allowed a single tear of frustration to roll down his cheek.

00000000000

Walking alongside Vanessa back up the tunnel, Machus said, "It's as I feared, Abbess. That hare will not listen to reason. He is too unquestioningly dedicated to his master."

"Hm. Maybe if I'd gone to see Hanchett with Lady Mina instead of you, he wouldn't have been so put off."

"I have my doubts, Abbess. Mina isn't one to hide her loyalties, or her feelings. If Hanchett found out she was an ally of Lord Urthblood's, he would have acted as frostily toward her as he did toward me, squirrel or not."

"I suppose. Still, I can't help feeling that it might have been more helpful if Lord Urthblood had left behind more woodlanders among your forces here. We'll hardly win Hanchett over with foxes, weasels and rats ... no offense meant to you, Machus. But I'm not the only Redwaller who found Urthblood's choice of troops to remain here somewhat ... well, questionable, if I may say so."

"It is a bit late to harbor second thoughts about whether you can trust us, Abbess," Machus stated matter-of-factly.

"It's not just our trust I am considering, Machus. If Hanchett's attitude toward you is any indication of what we can expect from Lord Urthfist if that badger shows up at Redwall, your presence might make the situation more awkward."

"That badger's attitude is unimportant, as long as we keep him out of this Abbey. And that's what my troops are here to help ensure."

Vanessa shrugged. "At any rate, it seems we have no choice but to keep Hanchett confined down there for now. Maybe he'll change his mind after another day or two of isolation."

"He won't."

She shot the swordfox a questing gaze. "You sound awfully certain. What makes you say that?"

"Because I wouldn't, if I were in the same position."

They emerged into Cavern Hole to find Alex, Mina, Montybank and Maura waiting there. "How did it go?" Mina asked ... not of Vanessa, but of Machus.

The fox shook his head. "About what we expected. Our guest will get to know that cellar room most intimately before he'll promise not to cause us any trouble." Machus turned to Alex and Monty. "You're just the two beasts I wanted to see. Since my troops will be helping to guard this Abbey, they will have to work alongside your squirrels and otters. I think it would be a good idea if we all went up to the ramparts together to address them. If they see us commanders cooperating, I think they'll be more inclined to follow our example. It will be good for morale."

"Yes, I suppose," Alex said somewhat dubiously. "But right now the walltop is too crowded for its own good. And none of your beasts are skilled archers or slingers, Machus. It'd make more sense to bring them down to help guard the wall gates."

"I would agree," Machus looked to the Abbess, "except I do have a suspicion that somebeasts would prefer they stay up there, away from the Abbeyfolk."

Vanessa set her jaw firmly. "Alex and Monty are Redwall's chief defenders at the moment. I'll leave you to work it out with them where your Northlanders would best be stationed, Machus. But I daresay you can hardly blame some of the brothers and sisters for not wanting to brush shoulders with creatures they are not used to having around, and who have traditionally been Redwall's enemies."

Machus stiffened to a more formal pose. "Abbess, Lord Urthblood has given you his word that we will cause you no harm. I now give you my word as well. We are here as friends and allies to help Redwall, and will not cause you any trouble. This I promise."

Lady Mina leaned toward Alex. "Machus does not give his word of honor lightly. Believe what he says."

"This is reassuring," said Vanessa. "If your deeds in the days ahead match your words, then you will indeed be considered fast friends of Redwall by even the most uncertain of Abbeybeasts here. Go now, and straighten out the deployment of your troops. Wherever you, Alex and Monty decide to put them is all right with me."

"Thank you Abbess." Machus gave a formal half bow and ambled up the stairs to Great Hall with Alex, Monty and Lady Mina, leaving Vanessa alone with Maura.

The badger matriarch kept her eyes fastened on the retreating fox until the group had disappeared. "Vanessa, I'm telling you now, if those vermin come down from the walls, I'm going to tether all the young ones together on a single leash and not let them out of my sight for as long as that rabble is at Redwall."

Vanessa looked askance at her big friend. "Maura, I thought you trusted Machus ... "

"Oh, I do. It's not him I'm worried about. Without Lord Urthblood around to keep them in line, will those rats and weasels still be able to bring themselves to act like decent creatures?"

"That we will just have to wait and see," Vanessa said. "But at least now they don't outnumber us. If they cause us any trouble, Monty and Alex will put them in their place ... if Machus and Lady Mina don't do it first."

(_To be continued in_ The Crimson Badger, Book III: Journeys)


End file.
